


Web of Gray

by Adeline17 (RiseHigh)



Category: La Femme Nikita
Genre: Along with Nikita and others, And how one change in Section history impacts everyone within Section One, Background Nikita/Michael, But I wouldn't call it an HR or TR fic, Gen, Implied Operations/Madeline, It's more about an exploration of Madeline as a character, Section History, Standard Section Drama, partial AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24684856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiseHigh/pseuds/Adeline17
Summary: New operatives arrive at Section with such frequency that Nikita barely registers them, but this operative is different.  She's younger than most and is tied to Section's history in more ways than Nikita could have expected.
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set some time after 'New Regime' in season two and roughly follows canon by drawing from various episodes, but it ultimately is an AU exploration of the existing characters through the introduction of a new one.
> 
> I originally posted this on FF.net over a decade ago and was recently inspired to pick it back up again. I no longer have access to that account, so here we are. This isn't a direct re-post nor is it a total re-write. I had a penchant for writing in third person omniscient back then, which now drives me crazy, so that's the bulk of the revisions. That said, I've added some additional color and perspective into the original story.
> 
> Generally, I don't think anything in the fic warrants archive warnings, but I will flag anything beyond canon typical violence in the authors notes. This chapter has references to underage prostitution, but nothing of substance.

Nikita walked over to the briefing table and sat down next to Michael, Birkoff, and a young operative she had never seen before. The girl sat up straight, her back not touching the back of the chair. Her hair hung down to her mid-back and was dark brown in color with red-gold highlights. Although the girl stared straight ahead, Nikita caught a glimpse of her chocolate brown eyes that were flecked with green and gold.

Despite the icy Section demeanor the girl displayed, Nikita knew she could be not much more than fifteen. The gray pants and jade green top she wore presented an image of professionalism, but one thing gave her away. A bubblegum pink polish on the nails of her carefully folded hands betrayed her true age. Hoping for answers about the new operative, Nikita looked to Michael, but he just turned his gaze to the doorway through which Operations had just entered.

“The target is Anton Tannic.” Operations pulled up the vid-screen. “He’s an arms dealer who’s been rapidly building his power base. Unfortunately Tannic knows he’s a target and has been difficult to find. In four days, he will be at a club run by George Leitz in Prague. Nikita and Charlotte will be inside, Michael will lead, and Birkoff will handle Comm.,” he turned to the two women, “You two will get your profiles from Madeline.”

Operations turned off the screen and walked back towards the Perch. Charlotte was the first operative to rise from the briefing table and began walking toward Madeline’s office without looking at Nikita. Nikita followed, still curious about exactly who this girl was. 

“I’m Nikita.”

“Charlotte.” The girl didn’t slow her pace but she glanced over. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Same. I don’t think I’ve seen you around.”

“I don’t expect you would have. I spend most of my time on Level Six.”

“Of course,” Nikita said nonchalantly, even though she was not quite sure the kind of work was done on Six. Something with profiling. “You looking forward to getting out into the field?”

“As much as one looks forward to anything here.”

“Fair enough.”

Nikita watched Charlotte tapped a code into the panel at Madeline’s door. It slid open after a moment and Charlotte walked in without looking back at Nikita. 

“Leitz runs a talent agency out of Berlin,” Madeline began once they were seated. 

Nikita raised an eyebrow and glanced at Charlotte. The girl did not acknowledge Nikita’s look, leaving her to wonder if she understood the euphemism Madeline had used.

“Charlotte will play the fourteen-year-old client and Nikita will be her representative. Once Charlotte is inside she will confirm Tannic’s location, and then Michael, who will be posing as a guest, will take care of the rest. Your clothes are waiting for you in Wardrobe and you leave in forty five minutes.”

With a curt nod, Charlotte stood up and walked out of the office without saying a word. Nikita watched her go and turned to Madeline with a look of disgust. The older woman looked back at her evenly. “Yes, Nikita?”

“When did Section start using children for operatives?”

“Charlotte is sixteen,” Madeline responded with her usual calm. “Charlotte’s involvement on this mission was entirely her choice.”

“A choice?” Nikita snorted. “Since when does Section allow choices?”

“The situation with Charlotte is unique.”

“Unique?”

“Yes.”

Sixteen was better than the profile’s age of fourteen, but with the two years of training, it meant the girl had been inside Section at least since her early teens. “How old was she when she was brought in?”

“That will be all, Nikita.”

Madeline gave her a look that dared her to continue the line of questioning, so Nikita forced smile and rose from her seat. She wasn’t surprised that Madeline wouldn’t answer. It merely meant she would need to go to the source. Charlotte may be curt and professional, but Nikita was persistent.

* * *

The mission was long, but successful. although it was not without difficulty. Tannic was a disgusting man, but the team came in before anything could escalate. And Charlotte—well, from everything Nikita could tell—handled it like an expert. They went their separate ways for the debriefing, but Nikita convinced Michael to give her the location of Charlotte’s quarters. 

When she reached the door, she pressed the buzzer. After a moment the lights on the door blinked and it slid open. Nikita stepped in the modern-styled room to find Charlotte seated at a desk. 

“What’s up?”

“How was your debrief?” Nikita sat down in the chair opposite of Charlotte. “It was your first, right?”

“Fourth actually.” She glanced up from the computer screen for a moment, but looked down quickly. “The debrief went fine.”

There was something different about her, but Nikita couldn’t place it. “That’s good,” she said haltingly.

“What?”

“Your eyes,” she realized. “They’re green now.”

“Contacts,” Charlotte said with a shrug. “I like change.”

Nikita watched her shut down her computer. The actual room reminded her vaguely of Birkoff’s quarters, but Charlotte’s seemed much less techno and a little more severe. It was very linear and simple with a contrast between light and dark. The only color in the room was provided by an herb garden on one wall and a visualization screen on the other that projected a constant movement of calming colors along with soft music.

“Sorry,” she apologized as she turned away from the screen. “I was in the middle of a game.”

“What were you playing?”

“Chess.” Charlotte typed a quick command into the keypad and the computer screen slid into the table. “So what’s really up?”

“I’m here to offer you a girls’ night out of Section, are you interested?”

“And just what would this evening entail?”

“Movies and junk food in my apartment.”

“Sure, let me just tell…”

She was interrupted by the beeping panel on her desk. The word ‘Comm.’ appeared on the digital screen, and she tapped it lightly opening the channel.

“Yeah?”

“Hey Charlie.” Birkoff’s voice filtered into the room. “Madeline wants to see you in her office.”

“Yeah, okay.” Charlotte tapped the screen again, turning off the speaker.

Nikita raised an eyebrow. “Charlie?”

“Nickname.” She shrugged off the question and stepped over to the walk in closet at the corner of her room. “Madeline should only take a minute, so I’ll grab some clothes and we can leave from there.”

Leaving Nikita and her bag in the hallway, Charlotte walked into Madeline’s office and sat down across the desk from the other women. “You wanted to see me?”

“How was the mission?”

“Fine.” She folded her hands in her lap. “You saw my debrief.”

“The parameters put you in a difficult situation.”

Charlotte focused on keeping her tone as calm as Madeline’s. “And the profile had Michael intervene in time.”

“Nonetheless, it was a challenging mission for you.”

“I knew that going in.” Charlotte gave a half smile. “It was my choice—you and Operations made that abundantly clear.”

“Nonetheless, it affected you, did it not?”

“Yes.” She paused briefly. While her personal position had been distasteful, what bothered her was that they had done nothing to shut down Leitz’s club. She knew the mission parameters and understood that shutting down one club wouldn’t impact on sex trafficking on the macro level, but the faces of the other girls still stuck in her head. “It was nothing that I cannot put behind me.”

“All right.” Madeline accepted that as an answer—or at least seemed to accept it. Charlotte could never truly tell. “What are your plans for this evening?”

“Nikita invited me to her flat.”

Charlotte tried to gauge Madeline’s reaction, but not surprisingly failed. Her upgrade to active field status had brought with it more freedom to leave the Section, but she still wasn’t sure how the news would be met.

“You two became close on this mission.”

“Relatively.” She looked at Madeline whose eyes urged her to elaborate. “I’ve had minimal contact with any other operatives in Section, and Nikita and I got along. Will this be a problem?”

“She is curious about your past.”

“Isn’t everyone?”

“You…”

She cut her off before the warning could be said. “I know.”

“Very well then.” She dismissed the young operative, who rose from her seat gracefully. “That will be all.”

“Goodnight Madeline,” Charlotte called over her shoulder as she joined Nikita

“Everything went well?” Nikita asked and Charlotte smiled in response. “You know, Charlotte, you are the only person I’ve met here who can come out of that office with a grin.”

“I’ve known Madeline for quite some time now.” She shrugged before continuing, “I suppose I’m not scared of her—scratch that, she’s terrifying—but I’m used to it.”

“Interesting.”

“Not really.” She changed the subject. Discussing Madeline was something she tried to avoid whenever possible. “Do you mind if we stop by Comm. first?”

“Of course not.”

“Mo!” Charlotte called as she walked up behind Birkoff. There were no active missions so he was the only one in Comm., so she felt she could be more casual. “I’m going out tonight.”

“Really?” he asked with a smirk. “I think that this is the first time you ever told me that.”

“Jealous?”

“No, I just think it’s about time.”

“Oh shut-up.” She rolled her eyes. “You barely leave yourself.”

“But I do. You’ve been on active status for a month and this is the first time you’ve left of your own volition.”

“Whatever.”

“Just get out of here,” he told her. “I’ll see you tomorrow, after your lessons?”

“Of course.” She smiled, returning to Nikita. “Let’s go.”

* * *

It took Paul longer than expected to find the time read the report on the Tannic mission, but when he did he was pleased with what he saw and left the Perch to discuss it with Madeline. Even though it was late, he wasn’t surprised to find her focused on her computer the door to her office slid open.

“Hello.”

Madeline looked up from here screen. “Hello.”

“I read the report on the Tannic mission.”

“Our team performed well.”

“According to Michael’s debrief, Charlotte’s performance matched that of the older, more seasoned operatives,” he said casually as he sat down across from her—as if Charlotte was not his entire reason for visiting her office. “It’s difficult to believe that this was only her third mission.”

“Section trained her well.”

“You trained her well.” He watched her reaction carefully. She gave a smile that showed a bit more pride than her normal one. “You did good work with her.”

“Thank you.”

“Is she in her quarters?”

“No, she went out with Nikita.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that wise?”

“I believe it was.” She paused. “They became close during the mission. If we were to forbid outside contact, Charlotte would rebel against the Section. She is a teenager, after all.”

“That she is.”

“Besides their profiles complement each other in the field, so this will not be their last mission together.”

He nodded in agreement. “Nikita’s numbers are higher when she has a rapport with the team.”

“And Charlotte will benefit from exposure to different ways of thinking if she is to continue developing as a profiler. Not to mention the benefits of a female friendship on Charlotte’s general development.”

“As always, you assessment seems sound.”

* * *

“This is it.” Nikita opened the door to her apartment, allowing Charlotte to enter.

“It’s nice.” She surveyed her surroundings closely. The room was modern with clean lines and a distinct—somewhat funky—style. Charlotte could feel Nikita’s eyes on her. “Sorry,” she apologized quickly. “It’s just that you can tell a lot about someone from where they live.”

“And what does my place say about me?”

“Nothing I didn’t already know.” Charlotte leaned against the counter casually, but her ease was an act. She liked Nikita, but she was still little more than a stranger. Not to mention, this was her first time in another operative’s home. “So what’s your plan for tonight?”

“I figured take-out would be best, unless you want to cook?”

“Well, I do have had extensive training, but I’m not really not in the mood.” She glanced at Nikita’s kitchen set-up with disdain. “And the cook top leaves something to be desired.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t want me to lie, do you?”

Nikita rolled her eyes. “Of course not. So do you want pizza? Chinese?”

“Thai?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Nikita excused herself to make the call and Charlotte walked to the windows to admire the view. Most of the time she didn’t mind living in Section, but a view would be nice.

“Will be here in 20 minutes.” Nikita came back into the room and sat down in on one of the armchairs. “So, do you really cook?”

“Yeah,” Charlotte flopped down into the armchair opposite of hers. “It’s one of my passions.”

“And you’ve been trained?”

“Yes.”

“By whom?”

“Section.”

“That doesn’t seem like a standard training protocol.”

She cracked a smile. “You sure?”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Nikita deadpanned. “After self-defense and munitions, came the lessons on dicing tomatoes and mincing onions.”

“Don’t forget the proper methods of carving a turkey.”

“Now that actually sounds like Section.”

Charlotte couldn’t help but let out a giggle. She noticed the surprised look Nikita gave her and became self-conscious. “What?”

“I was beginning to think that you never laughed.”

She sat up straighter and gave Nikita a haughty look. “Well, I guess I just proved you wrong,” she res

“That you did.” She paused briefly. “Charlie.”

“Don’t call me Charlie.”

“Birkoff can, but I can’t?”

“I’ve known Birkoff longer than I’ve known you,” she answered simply, ignoring the fact that both Operations and Madeline disliked the use of nickname as well. “Besides, Charlotte is more professional. How would you like it if everyone called you Niki?”

“All right, Charlotte.” Nikita acquiesced and Charlotte smiled in victory. “Do you have a last name?”

“Do you?”

“No.”

“Everyone has a last name.”

“Not me.”

“So you’re just Nikita?” Charlotte got a nod for a reply. “Then why can’t I just be Charlotte?”

“Because I think you have a last name.”

“Sabler.”

“Charlotte Sabler—très chic,” Nikita said with a heavy French accent. So, how long have you known Birkoff?”

Y“Long enough.”

“Well, you have the patented Section response down, so that means you’ve been there at least a few of years.” Nikita deduced getting her a glare in response. “And that steely glare of yours is freakishly like Madeline.”

Charlotte had wanted to avoid talking about her past but Nikita had been trying to find out how she ended up in Section since the moment they sat down at the briefing table before the mission, so the question wasn’t that much of a surprise. Might as well get it over with—and even better if it distracted Nikita from her observations of her similarities to Madeline. 

“I’ve known Birkoff for as long as I can remember.”

“Did you know each other before…” Nikita trailed off with a gesture that seemed meant to indicate a life before Section. 

Charlotte shook her head slightly and shrugged. On the ride over to Nikita’s place, Charlotte had considered fabricating a non-existent life outside Section until that ended with her recruitment and friendship with Birkoff, but it didn’t seem worth the effort since she’d need to maintain it with all of Section.

Nikita looked stunned. “You’ve been inside your entire life?”

“Yes.”

“That’s insane.” Nikita looked almost as if she wanted to fight someone, which surprised Charlotte. She had expected Nikita to be troubled or even a bit disturbed, but the anger was unexpected. “Birkoff is bad enough, but at least he’s in Comm. But taking a child and forcing her to become a field operative, that’s barbaric.”

“It wasn’t like that. I wasn’t forced by Section.”

“You’re sixteen and an operative. That doesn’t happen naturally.”

“It does when your parents were operatives.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

“I thought personal relationships among operatives were frowned upon.”

“They are. They were.” Charlotte paused as if she were collecting her thoughts, even though she knew exactly what she planned to say. “But my parents were very good at hiding their relationship—until my mother was seven months pregnant with me.”

“And that wasn’t grounds for cancellation? I mean—I’m sorry, I…”

“It’s all right,” she responded with a detached maturity. 

Taking on the disconnected tone was easy. After all, the story she was about to tell was a mix of truths and lies. Her entry into Section was extremely classified—only a handful of people knew the full story and even she didn’t know all of it. Charlotte had been telling half truths about her past for as long as she could remember. The versions changed depending on the audience but the theme was always the same.

“My parents were high level operatives, so when my mother fell pregnant exceptions were made. She died during childbirth but my father was allowed to have me live with him on the outside. We had a flat and everything, but I never really belonged there. I don’t even have a registered birth certificate.”

“So you never existed?”

“Technically no—outside of the Section I’m invisible.” Nikita responded with a thinly veiled look of disgust, but didn’t say anything so Charlotte continued, “I was at a Section controlled daycare of sorts until I was old enough to be given tutors. When I was eight my father died during a mission, that’s when Section became my home.”

“How did you meet Birkoff?”

“I don’t know exactly, I just remember him being there. My father would take me to the park and such so I interacted with other children, but I wasn’t allowed to have real friends—the risk of exposure was too high. Someone at Section must have decided it would be good for the two of us to spend time together,” Charlotte explained with a shrug. “He’s nearly four years older than me, but apparently I was gifted enough that it didn’t matter.”

“And modest.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes in response but was relieved that Nikita was now teasing her instead of openly expressing her outrage. “If it makes you feel better, I may have been able to speak multiple languages by the age of four but I had a terrible lisp as a toddler. I struggled to pronounce Seymour, so I called him ‘Mo’—I still do.”

“That’s adorable.”

She gave Nikita her best serious look. “Which is one of the key qualities of a good operative, right?” 

“Of course.”

“Because if we are not adorable, we cannot defend the unprotected public.” She grinned but kept her tone professional. “It’s why Michael is effective.”

“Oh definitely.” Nikita tried to remain serious but could not hide her laugh completely. 

When Nikita laughed, Charlotte did too. There was a knock at the door and both of their laughter stopped abruptly and tensed as if expecting an attack. When they realized what they had done they started laughing. 

“And that is why we both needed a girls night,” Nikita said as she grabbed her wallet and headed to the door and greet the delivery guy. 

“Smells good,” Charlotte said as she joined Nikita in the kitchen to help unpacking the food. “Thai is one of the things I’d like to learn to cook. I’ve tried some recipes but nothing extensive.”

“I am barely competent in the kitchen.”

“It’s not that hard.”

“But it still feels like a chore,” Nikita said as she passed Charlotte a plate. “And the dishes afterwards.”

“The dishes are a small price today. I think cooking is a way of creative expression.” After scooping food onto her plate, she used the chopstick to gesture at Nikita’s decorative touches around her kitchen. “Not everyone has a traditional artistic flair.”

“So there were no art classes in the lessons you had with Birkoff.”

“No.

“So what did you learn during those lessons?”

Charlotte sat down on one of the stools and studied the other woman. Nikita was trying to be casual but she was too curious to mask the interrogation. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“So?”

“Why?”

“Because I like answers.”

Charlotte deflected by taking a bite with her chopsticks. “Oh.”

“Will you give me some?”

“Will you?”

“What do you want to know?” she challenged as she sat down next to her. “You want to hear how I got into Section?”

“I already know.”

“Really?”

“I’m a Level 2 operative,” Charlotte explained in a matter of fact tone. “I had access to your basic profile before our mission.”

“Level 2?” Nikita looked surprised. “You’re 8 years younger than me and you outrank me.”

“Birkoff outranks both of us,” Charlotte smiled. “He’s Level 4.”

“Still.” She shook her head in disbelief. “What did those lessons teach you?”

“General academic knowledge and skills we would need. His were technical—they gave him codes, he cracked them—that kind of thing. Pretty soon he was making them himself.”

“What about you?” Nikita took a bite of food. "What were you taught?”

“Combat, marksmanship, and standard operative skills. Plus there were languages, logic, profiling—the mental aspect of the job.”

“And they started all of this when you were young?”

“The languages and logic puzzles started immediately, but everything else was gradual—martial arts and gymnastics became combat and defensive skills as I progressed.”

“Interesting.”

“Now can we _please_ stop discussing Section?” Charlotte begged with a dramatic emphasis. “I thought the point of tonight was to have a girl’s night out?”

“Yes, sorry.” She laughed. “Nice weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

“Weather?” Charlotte shook her head. “That’s the best you could come up with? My best friend may be Birkoff, but even I could have found a better topic.”

“Sorry. You pick a topic.”

“Did you know that more people are killed annually by donkeys than in air crashes?”

“No, I didn’t,” she answered seriously, and then laughed. “That was terrible! I can’t believe you mocked my weather comment.”

“Okay, I have another one.” She smiled. “If you could eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“What would you choose?”

“Popcorn.”

“Popcorn?”

“Yes, and not the fresh popped kind—I mean the microwave kind.” She bit her lip a bit sheepishly. “It’s awful really, especially with how well I cook, but I just love it.”

“For me it’s French Fries. When I was a kid, I would scrounge up whatever money I could find and sneak off to get them from McDonald’s.”

“Can you believe that the first time I ever went to McDonald’s wasn’t until I was ten years old?”

“Really?” She asked; grateful for the distraction from thinking about her past.

“It was my birthday, and I told Birkoff that I wanted a ‘normal’ birthday.” She remembered with a smile. “We were never supposed to leave the Section, but I must have whined enough to convince him to make a daring escape with me.”

“How old was Birkoff?”

“Almost fourteen.”

“How did you leave without anyone noticing?”

“We had the day off from lessons in honor of my birthday, and he put in a temporary feed of us watching a movie into the Section surveillance system.”

“Did you two do that kind of thing often?”

“Only occasionally.” She shrugged. “I would have liked to do it more, but he was always the voice of reason. Or he was just less willing to risk punishment in the name of mischief.” She shook her head. “Anyway, we left Section and he took me to this old theatre where they were playing _La Belle et la Bête_.”

“ _Beauty and the Beast_?” Nikita translated.

“Yes, but not the cartoon version—the French one based on the folklore,” she continued. “Afterwards he offered to take me to any restaurant I wanted and I chose McDonald’s.”

“Did you return to Section after that?” She was completely amused by the image of a young Birkoff and Charlotte watching a movie in an old French cinema followed by fast food.

“Yes, but we had an escort.”

“Escort? You were caught?”

“Madeline must have come by the room to check on us or somehow figured it out. Either way, the minute she walked into the restaurant we knew we were busted.”

“What did she do?”

“Well, I’m sure she was pissed as hell, but being Madeline she didn’t show it.” She rolled her eyes with the pent up frustration she remembered from that day as she continued, “She ordered food and sat down at a table across the restaurant. Never once did she make eye contact with either of us. When she finished her food, we followed her out of the restaurant, and she opened the backdoor of her car and we got in. That ride back to Section was the longest of my life.”

“What happened when you got back to Section?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “Madeline told us to go to our quarters, so we did. She never spoke of it again.”

“You got lucky.”

“Well, yeah, I guess.” Charlotte chuckled. “But do you have any idea how terrified we were that she was just waiting for the best time to use it against us.”

“Did she ever?”

“No, but who knows? I could walk into Section tomorrow, see a Happy Meal and then I’ll know my cancellation is imminent.” She groaned at herself. “Sorry, that was a terrible comment. I really should learn to censor that kind of thing.”

“Maybe just a little,” Nikita said with a laugh. “So what kind of movie to you want to watch?”

“Spy thriller?” she deadpanned.

“You really are terrible.”

Charlotte shrugged. “You invited me over.”


	2. Chapter 2

Despite her best efforts, Charlotte couldn’t help but feel a thrill as she walked through the central hub of the Section on her way to Comm. Her whole life had been driving to this—to being someone capable of taking action to change the world—and now she was finally doing more than just studying and data analysis in the background.

“Boo!” she said as she came up behind Birkoff.

“Scary,” he said flatly without bothering to turn around.

“You can’t even feign it to indulge me?”

“Not anymore.” He typed a few commands on his keyboard and spun his chair so he faced her. “You’re all grown-up and going on missions now—you don’t need me to indulge you. “

“You forgot that I’m not limited to Level Six all day.”

“Where were you all day today?”

“Level Six.”

“Some change.”

“But I’m not banned from virtually every other level, which means…”

He cut her off, “You can harass me at all hours of the day?”

She folded her arms across her chest and gave him a self-satisfied grin. “Precisely.” 

“Maybe I should ask Madeline to restrict your access.”

“And maybe I’ll never speak to you again.”

“Really?”

She rolled her eyes at the hopeful look in his. “We both know you don’t mean that.”

“Yeah, fine,” he admitted. “So what are you doing for the rest of the day?”

“Final lesson starts in twenty.”

“Which one is this?”

“Dìngliàng hóngguān jīngjì xué.”

“English please.”

“You think I want to study qualitative macroeconomics in Mandarin?”

Birkoff straightened his posture and folded his hands in his lap primly. “Instruction in another language is the best way to demonstrate one’s proficiency, Charlotte.”

Charlotte fought back a snort of laughter at the impression. “You’ve gotten quite good at that.”

“I aim to please.”

“ _Birkoff._ ” Madeline’s voice came across the intercom on Birkoff’s station and the pair exchanged a nervous look. “ _Jovanic gave us a location. I’m sending coordinates now._ ”

“We’ll get the schematics and send them to Systems.”

“ _Thank you._ ”

Charlotte watched Birkoff turn to his station briefly to confirm that the channel had closed. “You don’t think she heard…”

“No,” she said quickly.

“The timing is…”

“A coincidence,” she finished with more confidence than she felt. “I’m sure.

“Yeah, coincidence,” he agreed with the same wary look. “I need to get on this.”

“Of course. This Balkans mission should wrap by late evening?”

“Yeah—I’ll come by yours.”

“Great. I’ll go harass Walter now.”

“Have fun.”

“I always do” 

She walked away, winking at him over her shoulder. Charlotte made a beeline for Munitions, ignoring the other operatives who stared at her. Even though she had been in Section longer than most, she was still the ‘new guy’ and her presence—especially her bubbly demeanor—baffled them. That bit was intentional. Her attitude wasn’t a complete lie, on average she had more of a positive outlook than the other operatives, but she she chose to amplify the stereotypical attributes of a teenage girl because they made her less threatening to her peers.

“Hey Walter.”

“Hey Princess.”

“Need any help with anything?”

He gestured at the weapons on the table in front of him. “I’m just stripping these down. You can help if you’re careful.”

“I know how to handle a gun,” she countered as she picked up one of the guns. “I’m not a little kid.”

“Legally, you are a minor.”

“And in some cultures, I’d be married with a child of my own by now. You could call me lucky.”

“Interesting logic.”

The look on his face told Charlotte that calling her lucky would be the last thing Walter would do. “Well, you know what they say: When life hands you lemons…”

“Make lemonade.”

“And add arsenic,” she finished with a smirk.

Walter shook his head and gave her a wry smile. “Always the pragmatist.”

“It’s much more practical than optimism.” They worked in silence for a few minutes before Charlotte said, “You don’t approve.”

“Of what, Princess?” he asked without looking up.

“Of me being on active mission status.”

“What makes you say that?”

She waited until he looked at her and fixed a level gaze at him, before speaking, “You’re not denying it.”

“You’re very good at that.” 

Her expression didn’t change, and his compliment failed to distract her. This was the first chance they really had to talk since she’d started in the field and she needed to hear what he would say. After the death of her father, Walter had been one of the few nurturing figures in her life—and possibly the only one without an agenda. His response mattered in a way that no one else’s did.

He shook his head at her non-response and told her “It’s not safe.”

“Nothing’s safe.”

“There are safer options.”

“Like what, perpetual lessons? I’m already taking advanced university courses.” 

“There are areas of the Section that present fewer risks than the field.”

He glanced meaningfully around the Munitions bay and she raised an eyebrow in response. “Areas where my talents would be wasted.”

“Is that you talking or them?”

“Does it matter?” 

“It does.” Walter looked at her levelly. Charlotte held his gaze for a moment before looking back down at here work. She didn’t like the look of concern in his eyes. “You can comply with the chain-of-command without allowing them to dictate every aspect of your life.”

“You say that as if our lives aren’t dependent on our value to Section.”

“You are more than just your value to Section.”

“Sure.” 

“You are,” he repeated firmly. “Even to them.”

“If you say so.” She glanced at him briefly, before continuing, “Regardless, it’s not safe to remain static—I need to advance. Being in the field is the only way for me to do that.”

“Just be careful, Princess.”

She gave him a small smile. “I always am.”

* * *

A few days later, Charlotte gathered with the other operatives at the briefing table as Operations gave them a run-down of their next mission. As far as missions went, this was a straightforward extraction of the target—an international mercenary with ties to separatist groups in South America—and Charlotte’s role was perhaps the easiest. 

“Herrick is rarely in public without a significant contingent of armed guards,” Operations explained. “With the exception of when pursuing his unsavory predilection for young teenaged girls. Mr. Birkoff?”

“We’ve been communicating with Herrick via a computer algorithm that he believes is a thirteen year old named Allison, who’s agreed to meet him in a public park this evening after her school’s choir practice.”

“Charlotte will be the bait, Drew will take out the driver, and Michael and Nikita will extract. Transport leaves in two hours,” Operations finished. He looked at Charlotte. “Madeline is waiting for you in wardrobe.”

* * *

Madeline waited patiently in wardrobe for Charlotte. Having found an operative capable of managing this aspect of the Section and the associated training, she spent significantly less time in this area than in prior years—unless, of course, her direct involvement was crucial to the success of a mission or an operative’s psych profile.

“Hello, Madeline.”

“Charlotte,” she said with a smile as she gestured at a neatly folded stack of clothing. “Everything you need is right here.”

“There’s make-up remover, right?” She pointed to the mascara on her eyes. “I want to get this off before I change.”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.”

Madeline watched the girl sit down at the vanity and begin inspecting the products. “Did you have any questions about the profile?”

“My role is very straightforward,” Charlotte swept a cotton ball across her closed eyes. “Just luring out another perverted pedophile.”

While her tone was light, Madeline detected a hint of something more underneath the words. “That bothers you?”

“What Herrick is? Of course. I can’t think of someone more worthy of spending time with you in the white room.”

The joking tone was a clear diversion attempt. “And your role in it?”

“I don’t have a problem with my role. After all, I won’t be doing anything beyond taking a brief walk in a park with Herrick.”

There it was. It wasn’t really that surprising that Charlotte would be frustrated by having a limited role in the mission. The realization that reality that field work often was neither dramatic nor glamorous was something every operative had to go through.

“Each operative’s role in a mission is important, Charlotte.” Madeline paused and waited for Charlotte to look up at the mirror and meet her eyes through the reflection. “And it is not your place to question an assignment.”

“I know and I didn’t mean to question.” Charlotte turned to look at her properly. “I know that my age and ability to look younger than I am is an asset.”

“Yes, your age is a factor in mission assignments but not merely for appearances,” she began and Charlotte didn’t react visibly other than to became more still. Even her rate of blinking seeming to slow as the girl waited for the second half of the statement. “You are a talented operative, Charlotte. Operations would not put you in the field otherwise. However, developmentally speaking, the brain of a sixteen year old is different than that of an older operative.”

“I understand.”

“I’m not sure that you do,” Madeline countered. “I am telling you this not as a criticism but as explanation of one of the many factors that goes into a mission profile where you are concerned.” She paused to allow her words to sink in. “I also would caution you against reading too much into the types of missions to which you are assigned and your roles in them. Sometimes assignments will relate to your development, but more often than not the decision is based on how best to serve the public. They are our priority.”

“I will remember that.”

“Good.” Madeline gave her a small smile. The similar smile from Charlotte in return told her that her words had the desired effect. “Now finish with the make-up so you can get dressed.”

Madeline went to sit on one of the couches and picked up the panel she discarded when Charlotte walked in. She checked the latest reports while Charlotte removed the last of her make-up and took the clothing to change behind a screen. A few minutes later, Charlotte emerged in a burgundy blazer over the uniform of the parochial school ‘Allison’ attended.

“What do you think?” Madeline didn’t respond to the question and waited for Charlotte to make her own assessment about the adequacy of the look. “A little too jailbait?”

“I would have chosen a different adjective.”

“I think it’s the hair,” she said decisively and released it from the claw-like clip. 

With her hair loose, she immediately looked younger. It was the right call and Madeline was pleased that she had come to it on her own. Charlotte returned to the vanity and opened the drawers until she found a brush. She held out her hand. “Allow me.”

“Sure.”

Madeline took the brush and started running through Charlotte’s dark hair in even strokes. Once satisfied that it was detangled, she set the brush aside and started a simple French braid. The rhythm of braiding felt so natural—so normal—that it was a little jarring when she finished.

“There.” Madeline patted the completed braid and stepped back.

“Much better.” Charlotte agreed as she examined her reflection for a moment before standing up. “Now I look ready for middle school.”

Madeline held up a leather shoulder bag. “Don’t forget your books.”

“Thanks,” she took the bag and gave Madeline a look that suggested she wanted to say more, but whatever it was faded—quickly replaced with a bemused smirk. “Are you tell me to listen to my teacher and play nice with the other kids?”

“You are too well behaved to warrant such a warning.”

“Model student—that’s me.”

“Go on now.”

Charlotte gave her a nod and wave before heading out of the room. Madeline watched her walk down the hall and meet up with Nikita.

“Don’t you look cute,” the blonde teased.

“I’m an operative,” Charlotte shot back. Madeline couldn’t see her, but was certain the girl would be rolling her eyes. “I’m not cute; I’m lethal.”

“You can be both.”

Madeline watched Nikita ruffle Charlotte’s hair as they rounded the corner. She couldn’t hear Charlotte’s response, but whatever it was caused Nikita to laugh and eventually Charlotte joined. The laughter—more than anything else about the girl’s wardrobe or hair—was a stark reminder of just how young she still was. A reminder of another way her life may have been.

Madeline picked up her panel and headed back to her office.

* * *

The rest of Madeline’s afternoon was spent reviewing data analysis related to a developing situation in Chile. She lost herself in the data until the alert came across her screen about the successful completion of the Herrick mission. She attempted to return to the other work after, but it was more difficult to focus than she would like, so she paused to tend to her plants.

Examining them closely, she focused on what would need to be pruned and what would not—forcing all other thoughts out of her head, such that she only thought about the bonsai before her. Her door beeped softly, bringing her back to reality. She didn’t need to look over to see it who it was. Only Paul would come by her office at this hour.

“Madeline.”

She didn’t bother to look at him in greeting, knowing that he would come further into her office regardless. “Yes?”

“They retrieved Herrick without incident.”

She glanced briefly at him and then her desk, before returning her attention to the plants. “I saw it on my screen.” 

“He’ll be here within the hour.”

“Good.”

“Is everything all right?”

The question from him wasn’t surprising. Since he arrived in her office, she had done very little to shield her internal thoughts from her outward behavior. She set down her pruning shears and turned to face him. “There was a moment earlier—I braided her hair and when she left, I had to remind her to take her books.” Madeline shook her head dismissively as she continued, “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.”

“It has to be.”

“You have a session with her in less than 48 hours,” he said carefully. Paul was always careful when discussing these particular sessions—never wanting to push. She knew he objected on one level, but understood the necessity on another. It was easier for both of them if they did not discuss them directly. “You could delay.”

“No,” she said quickly. The thought of putting it off for a week or two was tempting, but that temptation alone meant there was no need for delay. “We can proceed as planned.”

“I defer to you,” he said and she nodded her thanks. “Might I make a suggestion?”

“Always.”

“You should take a couple hours tomorrow. Dinner, perhaps?”

“I think I will.” She smiled. “Thank you for the suggestion.”

“You’re welcome.”

* * *

Charlotte was in the midst tossing the chicken in the skillet with the rest of her stir fry ingredients when the door beeped. Without stopping what she was doing she reached to tap the access panel on her wall. 

“Hello Charlotte.”

“Hi Madeline.” She glanced over her shoulder briefly before reaching for some sesame seeds. “I’m running a bit late.”

“Not a problem.”

Tossing the food a few more times, she set the pan back on the stove and sprinkled some chili flakes over the contents. “It just needs two more minutes.”

“That’s fine,” Madeline said as she pulled plates from the kitchen cabinet and carried them to the table. “What were you planning for drinks?” she asked when she returned to the kitchen.

“I made some mint tea earlier. It’s chilling in the fridge.”

“That sounds lovely.”

A few minutes later, they were seated at the table across from each other. “This is very good,” Madeline said after taking a few bites. “Is it one of your own recipes?”

“Thank you, and yes.” She took a sip of her drink. “I threw it together from what I had on hand. I was actually worried it would be a disaster.”

“I doubt that. I am sure you could salvage it.”

“Probably.” Charlotte smiled. “If not, I could always call Christopher and beg him to prepare something.”

“It’s always wise to have an alternate plan.”

“Yes, it is.”

As they ate, they fell into a silence that an outsider would perceive as awkward, but it didn’t bother Charlotte. Given the demands of Madeline’s schedule, dinner together wasn’t common, but they happened frequently enough that Charlotte did not feel the need to there was no need to fill silence with idle chatter.

“What does Ramsey have you working on this week?” Madeline asked after a few minutes of silence.

Ramsey was the operative in charge of Charlotte’s literature and social science-based academic lessons. “I just finished reading Zamyatin’s _We_ and am working on a comparative essay with other works.”

“Is _1984_ one of them?”

Charlotte sensed the test in Madeline’s question— _1984_ was the obvious choice given the shared themes on state power and cultural conditioning between the dystopian novels, but Charlotte had selected a topic that went beyond the expected. “We discussed that, but I chose to look at the influence of Tergenev’s _Fathers and Sons_ and Dostoevsky’s ‘The Grand Inquisitor’ and _The Brothers Karamazov_ on Zamyatin’s work.”

“What conclusions have you drawn so far?”

“I’m not quite at that stage yet,” Charlotte admitted. “But I am looking at the role of passion versus complacency and the impact of free will on society and the governing body.”

“It sounds interesting. I look forward to reading the final paper.”

“I’ll be sure to send you a copy,” Charlotte said, even though she knew that Madeline received all of her work through Ramsey’s debrief. Technically, neither Madeline nor Operations played a direct role in her academic education, but she knew that they influenced the coursework—everything she studied related back to Section and its role in the global community.

Easy conversation about her studies and literature more broadly flowed between them as they finished their meal. Charlotte was about to offer Madeline dessert when the panel on the table began beeping. After Charlotte punched in a code, a small screen rose up from the table and revealed Nikita waiting outside the door. With Madeline’s nod of assent, Charlotte pressed the button that allowed the door to slide open.

“Hi,” Charlotte greeted with a smile.

“Hey, Charlotte,” Nikita said as she walked in. When she saw Madeline seated at the table, she added hastily, “Hello, Madeline.”

“Hello, Nikita,” Madeline greeted calmly. She set her napkin on the table and stood up. “Thank you for dinner, Charlotte.”

Charlotte stood up as well. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow—7:00 a.m.”

“7:00 a.m.,” she confirmed professionally. “Have a good evening.”

“You too,” Madeline said, and then looked at Nikita. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Nikita waited until Madeline had left until she asked Charlotte, “Is that normal?”

“What?”

“Madeline—in your quarters.”

“I guess.” Charlotte shrugged as she began clearing the table. “It’s not like she’s in here all the time, but we have dinner every now and again.”

“What do you talk about?”

“Stuff.”

Nikita grabbed the glasses that were left on the table and followed Charlotte into the surprisingly roomy kitchen that was attached to her quarters. “What kind of stuff?”

“The latest gossip around Section—you know, who’s hooking up with whom,” she said casually, as she placed the dishes in the sink.

“What?” Nikita stood frozen in place and Charlotte had to forcibly take the glasses out of her hands and place them in the sink. “You’re kidding.”

“Of course I am.” Charlotte snickered. “Have you eaten?”

“Not yet.”

She gestured at the frying pan on the stove. “Peanut chicken stir fry?”

“Sure,” Nikita agreed, but Charlotte could tell she hadn’t felt for her attempt to change the subject. Sure enough, Nikita asked, “So what do you talk about?”

Charlotte turned on the burner and began stirring the ingredients. “Current events, my studies—nothing that scintillating.”

Nikita leaned against the counter and watched Charlotte for a few minutes before saying. “I still think it’s weird.”

“It’s really more of a practicality. Until recently, I wasn’t cleared to interact with most operatives. Madeline would eat with me on occasion, so I could develop social skills.”

“Just Madeline?”

“Typically, on rare occasions Operations will join, and Walter—but never at the same time as them.”

“You’re quite popular.”

“Hardly,” she said with a shake of her head as she transferred a portion of the stir fry onto a plate. “Plus, I’m one hell of a cook.”

“Really?”

She handed her the plate and fork. “Try it.”

Nikita took a bite. “This is good—really good.”

“See.” Charlotte smiled confidently. “Just wait until you get to dessert.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for references to canon-typical White Room activity involving a minor.

Madeline prided herself in her ability to separate herself from situations—to ignore the irrational in favor of rational. It allowed for focus on the objectives over all else. It was what the Section needed—what she needed—to function. Despite her best efforts, however, there were certain exceptions. 

The petite brunette sleeping on the gurney in front of her being the primary one. 

She hadn’t spent the entire night in Medical. Doing so would have been entirely irrational. When they finished the session, Madeline returned to her office to address the pressing matters that had arisen during the day and a few other tasks until her focus started drifting more towards the box reporting Charlotte’s steadily improving vitals than anything else on her screen.

Leaving Section with the intent of getting a few hours of sleep at home, Madeline instead ended up walking along the Seine for hours, before accepting the fact that, try as she might, objectivity and Charlotte would only go so far. So at just after 4:00 am, she returned to Section and situated herself at the girl’s bedside—content to watch the rise and fall of the girls’ chest against the steady cadence of the monitors.

After nearly two hours, Charlotte began to wake and Madeline went to stand beside the bed. “Open your eyes, Charlotte.” It took a minute before the girl’s brown eyes opened fully and managed to focus on her. “How do you feel?”

“Numb.” She moved to lick her cracked lips. “Thirsty.”

Knowing the IV was doing the real rehydration work and that Charlotte’s stomach wouldn’t be able to handle liquids yet, she pulled an ice chip from the cup and held it to her lips. “Don’t chew,” she cautioned.

Charlotte nodded slightly and closed her eyes as she sucked on the ice. “How long have I been out?” she asked after a few moments—not bothering to open her eyes.

“Fourteen hours.”

Madeline watched Charlotte move the ice around her mouth before opening her eyes again. “How did I do?” she asked, a hint of trepidation mixing with the exhaustion in her voice.

“You made it through the entire eight hours,” she told her and the nervous tension Charlotte had been holding seemed to dissipate. “You did very well.”

Madeline smiled down at her and moved brush her hair back from her the face. She let her fingers linger on her cheek and Charlotte closed her eyes and leaned into the touch. It amazed her that something as simple as her touch could provide this much comfort to the girl. She allowed herself to luxuriate in that for a few minutes, before pulling her hand back.

“I have a morning meeting for which I need to prepare,” she said and Charlotte nodded. “Medical should release you to your quarters in a few hours, but the IV will need to stay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she echoed with a small smile. “Medical will keep me updated on your progress.” She turned to leave, but only made at a couple steps before Charlotte’s voice stopped her. 

“Madeline?”

“Yes?”

“Can you…” she trailed off and seemed to be warring with how to finish that sentence. “Ice chips,” she finished somewhat flatly. “Can you give me another one?”

“Of course.” Madeline picked up the cup and got another piece of ice for her. She was surprised to find that a part of her wanted Charlotte to have ended that sentence another way. She set the cup back on the tray. “Call Medical if you need anything else.”

Charlotte nodded and closed her eyes. Madeline silently left the room.

* * *

Nikita understood that Section didn’t have regular hours, but there were certain consistencies. Birkoff was always in Comm., Walter in Munitions. Operations was, more often than not, in the Perch. Madeline was harder to pin down, but was typically in her office or the White Room. The schedule of an operative was far more random, but with her academic lessons Charlotte’s was more regimented, so Nikita was surprised when she the girl wasn’t in Systems in the afternoon.

“Hey Birkoff.”

“Hey.” He looked up from his computer. “I didn’t think you were coming in today.”

“Michael wanted me to go over the sims for Bucharest. I was going to ask Charlotte to grab lunch, but she wasn’t in Systems. You seen her?”

“Not in a couple of days.”

“Really?”

“Contrary to popular belief, she and I do not spend every waking minute together.”

“So is she still up on Six?”

“No,” he answered with such quick certainty that Nikita expected he knew more than he was letting on.

“Then where is she?”

“Offline.”

“Which means?”

“She’s taking some downtime.”

“Why?” she pressed. 

“Why do you leave Section sometimes?” he countered. “Just because she lives here, doesn’t mean she works 24/7.”

Textbook evasion. Nikita debated pushing him further but decided it would be easier to go straight to the source. “Only you do that,” she teased instead and he rolled his eyes. “Did you want to grab lunch?”

He gestured at the bag of chips to the right of his monitor. “I’m set.”

“Healthy,” she mocked and he rolled his eyes as his focus returned to the monitor. “Later, Birkoff.”

* * *

Nikita intercepted someone from the kitchen outside of Charlotte’s quarters. If she hadn’t already been suspicious about the girl’s offline status, the fact that someone else was cooking for her would have been all she needed to tell her something was wrong. She pushed the button on keypad outside the room.

“ _Hey Nikita—now’s not a great time._ ”

“I have your lunch,” she said into the speaker. There was no response but the door slid open a moment later. “Room service delivery.” Her teasing tone faltered as she saw Charlotte in bed with an IV stand next to the bed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Charlotte said dismissively before changing the subject. “You work for Christopher now?”

“Needed a change.” She held up the tray. “Where do you want this?”

“Nightstand.”

“Sure.” Nikita set down the tray and sat on the edge of the bed. “What happened?”

“Nothing—I’m just sick. A flu or something.”

“You have an IV.”

“A precaution.” Charlotte shrugged her shoulders slightly. “Medical was concerned about dehydration.”

She studied the girl’s appearance. Her dark eyes contrasted sharply against her unnaturally pale complexion and her lips were slightly cracked. This was more than just a flu. “You got dehydrated in the first 24 hours?”

“Yes—I’m an over achiever like that.”

Nikita refused to let the attempt at levity distract her. There was something more going on. “So you started feeling sick after I left the other night?”

“The next day.”

“Before or after your meeting with Madeline?”

Charlotte gave her a look of surprise. “How did you know about that?”

“Madeline mentioned it the other night before she left.”

“Oh, right.” A brief look of annoyance flashed across the girl’s features, but Nikita blinked and it was gone. “Before. We rescheduled.”

“Then what was Madeline doing all morning?”

“What?”

“She was unavailable all day.”

“I don’t know.” Charlotte’s tone started to edge around being defensive. “Madeline doesn’t run her schedule by me.”

“I’m just curious about what you’re not telling me.”

Nikita reached forward and touched her friend’s forehead, expecting to find it warm. Charlotte jerked back in response and glared at her. “What the hell?”

“You’re not feverish.”

“Yeah, my fever broke.”

“Yet you’re still on an IV.” Nikita shook her head. “This doesn’t add up.”

“Medical said I needed an IV—I didn’t argue.” She waved the hand with the IV for emphasis and then gave Nikita a pointed a look. “Some people don’t find it necessary to badger everyone with whom they interact.”

The look barely registered with Nikita. Instead, she focused on the bruising she saw on Charlotte’s wrist when she moved her hand. There was nearly identical bruising on her other wrist. The pieces were beginning to fall into place in an a way that left a sinking pit in her stomach.

“Sorry,” Nikita apologized without really meaning it. “So you spent all day in your quarters?”

“Yes.”

“You never left?”

“Other than a couple of hours in Medical, no.”

“Then what happened to your wrists?”

Charlotte looked down at her wrists and closed her eyes. Her shoulders slumped and she shook her head. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want the truth, Charlotte. Were you on a mission?”

“No.”

“Then this happened in Section.”

“Yes,” Charlotte said evenly. She raised her eyes to meet Nikita’s as she continued, “It was resistance training.”

“With Madeline.”

“Yes.”

“In the White Room?” Charlotte didn’t respond verbally but looked at her levelly, which was answer enough. “What did she do to you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“So you’re lying in bed with an IV in your arm for something that doesn’t matter?”

“This is an unfortunate side effect of necessary training.”

“Necessary?” Nikita couldn’t keep the outrage from her voice. “You’re sixteen, Charlotte—this is abuse. You’re still a child.”

“Exactly.” Charlotte folded her arms. “I’m sixteen, which makes me a target on every mission in which I participate. People assume that because of my age I’m more likely to break. I need to be prepared to handle that.”

Nikita shook her head, not believing what Charlotte was saying. It was one thing for Section to train their operatives in combat and to resist interrogation, but this sounded like she had been intentionally tortured to build up a tolerance to pain—and not for the first time. It was inhumane and the fact Charlotte couldn’t see that made it worse.

“Charlotte...”

“I’m tired, Nikita,” she cut her off sharply. “I need to rest, so could we finish this discussion later?”

“Sure.” Nikita stood up and headed for the door. “Enjoy your lunch.”

* * *

Madeline hid her annoyance when Nikita appeared at her office door. She had one active mission and another one about to go live, so she really did not have time for whatever was bothering Nikita at the moment.

“Yes, Nikita?” 

“I saw Charlotte.”

Of course she had. Madeline had known long before the two had been introduced on the Tannic mission that a bond between the two would be likely. It had its benefits—it gave Charlotte a form of female companionship that the teenager had been lacking while Nikita’s psych profile benefited from playing a mentorship role with the younger operative. The most obviously downside was Nikita’s protective streak. 

After a few quick keystrokes, she paused what she was doing and turned to look at Nikita. “And?”

“Why?” the blonde asked simply.

“Every aspect of an operative’s training is implemented with his or her best interests in mind.”

“How is the White Room in her best interests? You tortured her.”

Madeline did not allow herself to do more than blink at the accusation. Nikita’s vitriol was expected, but she was curious about what Charlotte had told her. “Is that what she said?”

“Charlotte didn’t say a word. She toed the line just like the perfect operative you trained her to be.” Nikita shook her head. The disgust clear on her face. “I don’t understand how you sleep at night.”

“The training protocols of the Section are not open for discussion.”

“Protocol, is that all you care about?” Nikita asked. “What about Charlotte? She may have grown up in here, but she’s still a child. She should have a choice.”

“We all have a choice.”

“Obedience or death is not a choice.”

They were going in circles. There was no answer Madeline could give that would satisfy Nikita. This, like so many other things with the woman, would follow the familiar cycle—anger would fade to bitterness to resenting acceptance. An alternate tactic, however, could benefit Charlotte, so it was worth trying.

“What has Charlotte told you about her parents?”

“They were both operatives, who died when she was young. Did you know them?”

Madeline ignored the question. She wasn’t here to give Nikita a history lesson. “When Charlotte was young, her parents made a choice. That choice made their daughter a part of their lives, which necessarily included the Section.”

“No parent would want this.”

“You don’t know what they wanted.”

“But you do?”

Madeline thought back to words Charlotte’s father had spoken to her. “They wanted their daughter to survive.”

“That doesn’t make what you did to her right.”

“That will be all Nikita,” she said coldly, before turning back to her computer. She didn’t look away from the screen until long after the blonde left her office.

* * *

Charlotte groaned inwardly when she realized that someone was at her door. Her dinner had arrived almost an hour ago, so it had to be a visitor. Hopefully it wasn’t Nikita—she didn’t have the energy to go another round with her at the moment.

“Charlotte.”

She breathed a sigh of relief when Madeline walked into the room. “Hello.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Still tired, but better.”

Madeline crossed the room to stand next to the bed. “How’s your appetite?”

“Fine.” She watched Madeline lifted the cover off the dinner tray, which revealed the meal that she barely had touched beyond some of the toast. This earned her a look of disapproval. “I’m a little nauseated,” she admitted.

“You need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” Her comment, not surprisingly, was ignored. Charlotte looked up at the ceiling in annoyance as Madeline carried the tray into the kitchen to warm the contents. The idea of eating had little appeal, so she made no move to sit up before Madeline returned, which earned her a disapproving tsk. “I said I’m not hungry.”

“You’re going to eat.” Madeline said firmly. “Now stop behaving like a child and sit-up.”

She rolled her eyes in response, but did what was asked. Madeline set the tray on Charlotte’s lap and handed her the spoon.

“Happy?” she asked after swallowing a spoonful of the warm broth.

“I’ll be happy when you finish it. Both the noodles and the broth.”

They sat in silence as Charlotte ate. It didn’t exactly bother her that Madeline was seated in a chair next to her bed, but it bothered her that she was being forced to finish the soup instead of being allowed to wallow in her nausea. When she had eaten half of it, she looked over at Madeline asked, “Don’t you have other work to do?”

“There’s nothing pressing.”

“Still,” Charlotte knew that she most likely would fail to get Madeline to leave, but continued anyway. “There must be something more important than watching me eat.”

“No, not at the moment.”

“Really? All the terrorists and rebel factions are playing nice?”

“Nothing pressing,” Madeline repeated, allowing the faintest of smiles to cross her face. “Just eat.”

“If I throw up later, I’m holding you responsible.”

“Your stomach is fine—you merely need to get something in it.”

“Fine.” Charlotte forced herself eat more before asking, “We both know you didn’t come over here just to watch me eat. Why are you really here?”

“Nikita came by my office today.” Madeline waited for Charlotte to swallow another spoonful of soup before she continued. “She was concerned about you.”

“And what? You felt guilty?”

“No.”

She broke eye contact with Madeline. “Of course not.”

“I don’t enjoy this any more than you do.”

She swirled her soup with her spoon, without looking up. “Sure.” 

“Charlotte, I do not.”

“I know.” She looked up briefly before returning her gaze to her bowl. She did understand the the need for the sessions, but Nikita’s horrified reaction had shaken her. Usually she could overlook the rest of it and focus on the sense of accomplishment that came with completing the session, but Nikita’s words robbed her of that sense of pride. “It’s just hard sometimes.”

“Yes, it is. But it is our responsibility to do the hard things that the rest of the world cannot.”

Neither of them said anything else after that—there wasn’t anything left to say. After a few minutes, Charlotte finished her soup and Madeline took the tray into the kitchen. She refilled the pitcher of water next to the bed and asked,

“Do you need anything else?”

“No, thank you.”

“How’s your pain?”

“It’s fine.”

Madeline arched an eyebrow at her response. “Fine enough to fall asleep?”

“Medical will come by in a little bit.”

“You should sleep now.”

Charlotte watched her open the kit of the supplies Medical had left. “I don’t need much—I don’t want to be groggy tomorrow.”

“You’ll feel better tomorrow if you sleep through the night without interruption.” She pulled out a vial and a syringe from the kit and begin to fill it. “I’m only giving you enough to help with sleep.”

Even though Charlotte knew the syringe contained nothing more than a sedative, she still felt a spike of fear as Madeline inserted the needle into the IV line and depressed the plunger. She could feel her heart racing as she watched the liquid move through the line and into her vein. It was an irrational reaction, but she couldn’t stop it. 

“I’ll tell Medical they won’t need to check on you until the morning.”

She looked up at Madeline and wondered she had noticed her silent panic, but her gaze revealed nothing. Or maybe it did and Charlotte missed it as the artificial calm from the sedative began to take over. The fear receded and, instead, Charlotte relished in the comfort that came from Madeline adjusting her pillows and blankets.

“Thanks,” she said as she slid down further into her pillow and closed her eyes. “Night.”

“Sleep well, Charlotte.”

* * *

Nikita walked into Section the next morning and looked up at the Perch out of habit. She was surprised to see Charlotte talking with Operations. She headed over to Comm. to see if Birkoff knew what Charlotte was doing back to work so soon.

“Hey Nikita,” he greeted from behind his computer.

“Hey.”

“What’s up?”

Nikita sat down in one of the empty chairs. “What’s Charlotte doing in the Perch?”

“Don’t know.” He shrugged. “Operations wanted to see her.”

“Oh, okay.” Looking back up at the Perch, she was struck by how relaxed the girl looked. “Is she always that comfortable with Operations?

“What are you talking about?”

“Look at her body language—she’s relaxed.”

He followed her gaze. “I don’t see it.”

“There!” she said triumphantly. “She just smiled.”

“That’s how she always acts.”

“With Operations?

Birkoff shrugged. “With everyone, so?”

“You don’t find that weird?”

“Yeah, but freakishly perky is kind of her thing. She likes to keep people on edge.”

“Why?”

“To distract them—like you’re doing to me. Now.”

“Sorry. I’ll see you later, Birkoff.”

“Later.”

* * *

“You wanted to see me?”

Paul turned to look at Charlotte who seemed to materialize out of nowhere in his Perch. She, like Madeline and Michael, was one of the few operatives to have mastered that particular skill.

“Yes.” She took a few steps further into the room and waited at attention until he spoke again. With her hands clasped in front of her she was the picture of professionalism. “How are you?”

“Fine.” Charlotte smiled politely. “Thank you.”

He studied her for a moment, noting her choice of long sleeves and that the color in her face came from make-up rather than natural complexion. “I meant, how are you feeling?”

“Also, fine.”

“Charlotte.”

Her eyes flickered slightly with something that looked like an aborted eye roll. “A little tired, but much improved from yesterday.”

“I saw the report.” She tilted her head slightly and waited for his assessment. Most operatives would be nervous to hear his opinion, but Charlotte merely seemed mildly curious. It wasn’t surprising, in this area, like many others, the girl valued Madeline’s opinion more. “You performed better than anticipated.”

“So Madeline said.”

“I was impressed and I believe she was as well.” Charlotte didn’t respond verbally but the smile she tried to stifle told him she was genuinely pleased with this assessment. “Madeline also told me that she expected Medical would instruct you to spend another day in your quarters. Did they not?”

“Not directly. Only implied.”

“You should take another day.”

“I can’t spend another day doing nothing.”

Paul shook his head at her rationale—of course Charlotte would consider rest a waste of time. This was surely a product of how she grew up, but even as a small child she was rarely still so some of it had to be nature rather than nurture. “You’re no good to us if you overdo it.”

“I plan to sit at a workstation reviewing IRA communications, I couldn’t ‘overdo it’ if I tried”

“Still, I want you to take it easy.”

“Take it easy, sir?” she asked, placing heavy emphasis on the sir. Her face remained serious but there was a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Is that a typical order for a Level 2 operative?”

“Are you suggesting that you are merely typical?”

“You said it, not me,” Charlotte responded with a smile. Unlike the genuine one she tried to stifle before, this one was intentional—designed to disarm and distract.

“You cannot charm your way out following Medical’s advice. You will take three hours at lunch.”

“Two.”

“If you want to negotiate, I may need to consult Medical directly.”

“Okay,” she relented quickly. “Three hours at lunch.”

“Minimum.”

This time she did roll her eyes, but he could tell it was performative rather than true annoyance.

“Yes, sir.”

“That will be all.”

* * *

Nikita noticed Charlotte the moment she entered Systems, but pretended to be engrossed in her work. She wanted to finish their conversation from the day before, but knew that Charlotte would use work and the public setting to deflect her conversation attempts, so she waited—casting the occasional furtive glance to see how Charlotte was doing.

After a couple hours, Nikita walked over to Charlotte’s work station. “Hello, Nikita,” she greeted as she slipped off the head phones she had been using and placed them on the desk.

“Hey. How are you?”

“You’ve been watching me all morning—you tell me.”

“That obvious?”

“I just hope you’re better in the field,” Charlotte said dryly.

“I’ll work on it.”

“Good.”

“So,” Nikita pressed. “How are you?”

“Busy.”

“Charlotte.” This earned her a titled head and a curious look of attention, but still no answer to her question. “You up for a break?”

“I…” It seemed like she was going to deflect again, but she looked at the clock on her monitor and shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I’m due for a break anyway. Let me just make a couple more notes and then I’ll shut down.”

“Sure.”

“Operations is insisting that I take 3 hours of downtime in the middle of the day.” Charlotte’s eyes remained focused on her screen as she spoke. Given the deflection from before, Nikita was taken aback by the admission. “If I don’t, he’ll sic Medical on me,” she muttered as her fingers flew across the keyboard. “As if I don’t know my own limits.”

Nikita fought back an amused smile over her annoyance and watched Charlotte finish typing. Once she was logged off, Charlotte stood up and swayed slightly—Nikita reached out to steady her with a hand on her elbow. “What was that about knowing your limits?” she asked as Charlotte closed her eyes and breathed slowly through her nose.

When her eyes opened again, she fixed a glare at Nikita and shook her arm free. “I just stood up too quickly.”

Nikita said nothing but followed Charlotte out of Systems, ready to reach out and assist if needed, but she steadily led them to an empty work room. Once they were inside, however, Charlotte immediately sat down in a chair and closed her eyes. 

“Before you say anything, I’m fine.”

“Right.”

Charlotte opened her eyes. “I’m a little tired.”

“That’s an understatement,” she muttered disapprovingly as she sat down in a chair next to her. Charlotte looked like shew as going to protest, but Nikita held up her had. “Look, I don’t want to argue with you—I want to apologize for yesterday. I’m sorry if it seemed like I was attacking you.”

“I know your anger wasn’t directed at me. Apology accepted.”

Nikita waited to see if Charlotte would say more, but the teenager just looked at her. It wasn’t as if she expected an apology in return—Charlotte had done nothing wrong—but Nikita had expected some kind of admission of that she too was angry about what she had endured. But instead, she just got calm assessing silence. 

“What about you?” Nikita asked. The question was met with more silence; though, Charlotte did cock her head to the side in mild curiosity. “You’re not angry?”

“Why would I be angry at you?”

“Not me—Section.”

“This was just another form of training.”

“The White Room isn’t part of standard training, you know that, right?”

“Yes, but I am not a standard operative,” Charlotte countered. “Due to my age, there are higher risks…”

“Yeah, you said, but I don’t think they’re high enough to warrant this.”

“Well, it’s not your call to make.”

On one level, everything Charlotte was saying made sense—the mastery of a skill justified the means of obtaining it. Section logic at its finest. But she couldn’t believe that Charlotte really was not bothered by any of it—and if Charlotte was truly this accepting, then Nikita needed to make her see that this wasn’t okay. “Was this the first time?”

“No.”

“How often?”

“Annually,” she said with the casualness as if she were describing something as mundane as an exam in one of her academic lessons. “The intensity of the sessions increased over time.”

“How much time?”

“This was the fourth time in the White Room.”

“Fourth?!” Nikita couldn’t keep the outrage from her voice. “They put you in the White Room with Madeline when you were thirteen.”

“It was primarily an exercise of verbal interrogation set in the White Room to induce stress,” she explained in that same detached tone. “Madeline merely observed.”

“That doesn’t make it okay. Do you really not see how unfairly they treat you?”

Charlotte raised her eyebrows in apparent amusement. “Because Section and fairness go hand in hand?”

“Don’t be glib—not about this.”

“I’m merely stating a fact. It isn’t my concern if that bothers you.”

“Is Section really so ingrained in you that you cannot see how wrong this is?”

“You talk as if every child’s life on the outside is nothing but sunshine and happiness—it’s not. In the U.S. alone there were a million reported cases of child abuse and neglect last year. Across the world, parents put their vices over the needs of their children. I don’t have anyone choosing a bottle of booze over my wellbeing.”

“No,” Nikita countered, wondering briefly if her choice of example was intentional given her own background. She had never told Charlotte about her mother, but the girl was startlingly perceptive when it came to everyone but herself. “You just have an agency that does that for you.”

“So do you.”

“It’s different. I’m an adult. My childhood wasn’t perfect, but no one forced me to sacrifice it for the greater good.”

“Your childhood was on the outside,” she countered with a sharpness that surprised Nikita, mostly because, while the words were firm, there didn’t seem to be any real underlying bitterness. “Mine wasn’t.”

“And doesn’t that make you angry?”

“I don’t have the luxury of indulging in anger.”

“Emotions aren’t a luxury.” Nikita asked and the girl reacted with nothing more than a blink of her eyes, but she looked to be on the edge of saying more if Nikita could just push her a little further. “No matter how hard Section tries to _train_ them out of you.”

“What is it you want from me Nikita?” Charlotte’s face and voice softened as she continued, “Do you need me to weep for the physical pain I’ve endured at their hands?” She blinked and the fragility in her eyes disappeared. Her voice hardened. “Rage at them for their cruelty?” Her expression then turned back to placid calm, but her voice remained cold. “Tell me what emotional display will satisfy you.”

“I want to know what you are actually thinking and feeling,” Nikita said, ignoring how jarring it felt to watch effortless shift between emotional extremes. “Not some fake display of what you think I need to see. This isn’t about me.”

“Yes, Nikita, it is. You want me to validate your feelings of horror about everything that they took from me, but there is a big difference between the two of us—you had a life for Section to take. My life has always has been, and always will be, the Section’s to control. You can be horrified by the implications of this, but I can’t.” 

The words were ones Nikita would expect to be laced with vitriol but Charlotte’s voice was calm and steady—nothing in the tone suggested a deeper meaning in what she was saying. And yet, something about her demeanor shifted such that Nikita thought was seeing a glimpse of something, even if she wasn’t entirely sure how to describe what that was.

“This week wasn’t the first time I’ve had dinner with Madeline one night and been in the White Room with her the next, nor will it be the last,” she continued in that same even tone. “This is the reality of my life. I’ve come to terms with it. I suggest you do the same.”

Charlotte’s posture, which before had merely been stiff and formal, was unnaturally still by the time she finished. While her face still betrayed nothing, the stillness told Nikita that, despite her words, she was still far from coming to terms with her life within Section. Charlotte didn’t bury her emotions merely because it was what Section wanted—it was a method of survival. 

Rather than feel vindicated in the knowledge that she had been correct about what Charlotte had been feeling, Nikita merely felt guilty for having badgered the teenager. Her need to push beyond the surface had put pressure on the very thing that allowed Charlotte to function. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Save your pity for someone who needs it.”

“It’s not pity. It’s an apology—a real one,” she said sincerely and was relieved when Charlotte’s posture relaxed in response. As she relaxed, her exhaustion became more apparent, which made Nikita feel worse about having pushed. “A better friend would have focused on you and not her own anger. It’s not my place to tell you how to feel”

“You’re not a bad friend, Nikita. And I do like that you challenge me, but some things just aren’t worth challenging.” 

Nikita didn’t agree with her about not challenging, but nodded anyway and then smiled. “Though I will challenge you if tell me you want to go back to work.”

“You taking sides with Operations now?”

“Apparently.” Nikita helped her up from the chair. “Because you look like you could use those three hours—maybe even four. The Snow White pallor isn’t a good look for you.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m just being honest.” She casually linked her arm through Charlotte’s so the girl could lean on her as they walked. “As your friend.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is essentially an AU of Mandatory Refusal, with portions drawing directly from the episode with some obvious modifications.

“Hey, Nikita.”

She had been on her way out when Charlotte’s voice stopped her. “Hey.”

“You leaving?”

“I was.” She noticed that Charlotte was dressed in casual sweats, a far cry from her usual preppy or professional attire. “Are you going to ask me to join for some sparring?”

“Sort of.”

“You want to sort of spar?”

“Well, I’m going to spar, but I’m only inviting you to watch.”

“Why?” Nikita asked, even though she had already started walking with Charlotte in the direction of the gym. It wasn’t as if she had other plans for the evening. And Charlotte had a look of restrained glee that ensured that this would be far more amusing than anything she had planned on the outside.

“You know Gabriel’s new recruit?”

“The cocky misogynistic one?” His name began with a C maybe or a K. Nikita had stopped trying to learn the names of new recruits ages ago. “What about him?”

“Gabriel thinks he needs a lesson in humility, and Madeline suggested that I assist.”

Nikita smiled as the pieces fell into place. Even knowing Charlotte, she had been surprised by how well the girl had handled herself on the mat the first time they sparred. This recruit would no doubt dismiss Charlotte based on her size and gender. 

“And you’re selling tickets?”

Charlotte snapped her fingers in frustration. “I should have thought of that. I could have had Birkoff set up a live feed—stream it all over the Section.”

“Missed opportunity.”

“Next time.” She smirked as they entered the gym. “Because it will be what—two months, maybe three—before there’s another overconfident new recruit who thinks his testosterone is worth more than my decade plus of martial arts training.”

“You are going to have way too much fun with this.”

“Is it so bad to have pride in my work?”

Nikita couldn’t help but laugh at her innocent look of delight. “Just go do your thing.”

Finding an unobtrusive place near the well, she watched Charlotte walk over to greet Gabriel and the new recruit, who looked blatantly unimpressed by the teenager joining them. The look of disdain only increased when Charlotte unzipped her hooded sweatshirt to reveal a lavender top with swirls of pink throughout—because, of course, Charlotte had dressed the part.

“You want me to hit a kid?” the recruit asked.

“No.” Gabriel corrected. “I want you to spar with an operative.”

“She’s a teenage girl.”

“She is right here,” Charlotte interrupted, shifting her stance into ready position. “And would like to see you try.”

The recruit began tentatively and Charlotte blocked his moves with ease. She didn’t say anything or make any offensive moves, but Nikita saw a goading look in her eyes and she deflected each attempt. Once the recruit truly began to trying, Charlotte did the same—using his momentum and her lower center of gravity to throw him off balance, she swept his leg from under him and pinned him to the mat in a matter of moments. 

“Again.”

At Gabriel’s order, Charlotte released the recruit and returned to her feet. They began again and four moves later, the recruit was pinned. The cycle repeated and after the third time Charlotte looked up with a triumphant smirk. At first, Nikita had thought it was directed at her, but she realized that Charlotte was looking past her and at the doorway where Madeline stood.

Her presence was surprising. Charlotte had said that this had been Madeline’s idea, but Nikita hadn’t thought she would come to the gym. Madeline oversaw personnel, but focused on numbers and rarely observed tactical training in person. Yet there she was. Although, based on the bemused look on Madeline’s face when Charlotte pinned the recruit to the mat for the fifth time, it was possible she just wanted to see this recruit put in his place in person.

After the sixth time, the recruit didn’t immediately rise, so Charlotte offered her hand and pulled him to his feet. He looked properly chagrinned as he muttered a thanks. Nikita hazarded another glance at the doorway and saw Madeline turn to leave. 

“Can you tell me what move Charlotte employed there?” Gabriel asked.

“Ouchi gari?” the recruit guessed.

“Correct. The defense to which should be?”

When he couldn’t answer the question, Gabriel looked at Charlotte expectantly. “Ashi barai,” she answered.

“Correct, thank you,” Gabriel told her. “Are you needed elsewhere?”

“I’m clear for the next hour.” 

“I saw on your training profile that you’ve been refining your form when leading from your non-dominant side—this will be a good opportunity to practice.”

“Of course. I look forward to your guidance.”

Charlotte stepped away so Gabriel could address the recruit and, this time, she looked across the gym at Nikita. Nikita gave her a small wave and Charlotte nodded in response. All of the teenager’s amusement from moments ago had faded as she started preparing for actual training. Apparently the show was over.

* * *

Nikita didn’t see Charlotte until she strolled into Comm. the next day, where Nikita was walking through some data with Birkoff.

“Pardon the interruption,” she greeted once there was a lull in the conversation.

“No worries,” Nikita assured her with a smile. “Which one of us do you need?”

“Him.” She pointed at Birkoff. “Do, do you have the sims for Athens? Gabriel said you could get me them.”

Birkoff turned back to his monitor. “Of course.” 

“Gabriel?” Nikita asked.

“He thought I’d be a good fit,” Charlotte explained with a casual shrug as she sat down on the edge of Birkoff’s station. “The Athens mission goes live roughly the same time as the Enquist op. Since Michael didn’t need me for that, he had no objection to the temporary assignment.”

“Look at you,” Nikita said with a teasing lilt to her voice. “Wanted by not one, but two team leads. Should I be jealous?”

“She’s the social darling of Section,” Birkoff added and Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Effortlessly turning the training session of a recalcitrant recruit into a networking event.”

“She told you about that?” Nikita asked.

“She made me watch the feed,” he said dryly.

“Hey.” Charlotte complained, tapping his chair for emphasis. “I also cooked you dinner.”

Nikita shook her head at Charlotte. “You are like a little kid with school recital—insisting everyone attend.”

“Forcing, more like,” Birkoff muttered as he pulled a small disc from the drive. Charlotte held out her hand and he passed it over. “You know, Nikita, I actually did get dragged to one of her recitals when we were younger.”

“You’re kidding.” She looked back and forth between the two of them. It was always surreal to hear them talk about something so normal given their childhoods. “What kind of recital?”

Birkoff made a twirling motion with his fingers. “The kind with frilly pink tutus.”

“I was six.” This time Charlotte kicked his chair instead of just tapping it. “And you loved it.”

“I lied.”

“You gave me flowers.”

“Because your nanny insisted it was the polite thing to do.”

“Nanny?” Nikita asked.

“Slash instructor slash security slash whatever else Section needed her to be,” Charlotte said dismissively before turning her attention back to Birkoff. “You’re just jealous that here wasn’t a programming equivalent of a recital that you could drag me to—or maybe you just want flowers.”

“I…”

He was cut off by his monitor beeping followed by Madeline’s voice. “ _Birkoff_.”

Charlotte and Birkoff exchanged a look that could only be described as two kids being caught speaking out of turn by a teacher. Nikita turned away so she wouldn’t start laughing.

“Yes, Madeline?”

“ _When Charlotte arrives to collect the Athens sims, will you send her to my office._ ”

“He just gave them to me,” Charlotte hopped off the workstation and onto her feet. “I’ll head your way now.”

“ _Very good_.”

“Well, that’s my cue,” Charlotte said once the channel was closed. “And, no Mo, I don’t think she’s watching us. I’m sure Gabriel just told her I was headed to Comm. to collect the sims.”

“The timing is uncanny,” he argued. “Suspicious even.”

“Maybe she was watching Nikita.”

Nikita held up her hands. “Don’t bring me into this. I’m just an innocent bystander.” 

“To his paranoia,” Charlotte added. “While I’m gone, please try to convince him that Madeline is not spying on us any more than the standard surveillance.”

* * *

It was late—or maybe early—by the Charlotte finished her debrief from the Athens mission, and she was heading to her quarters when her panel beeped with notice of an ‘all hands’ briefing in Systems for anyone on site. She had heard something about a breach during the secondary Enquist mission, but had not thought it was severe enough to warrant a meeting.

Seeing the number of people already gathered when she arrived—clearly she was wrong.

She slipped into the back of the room and assessed who was there. Birkoff was at the central station. Nikita and Walter were across the room and the other operatives from her Athens mission were filtering in as well. There was no sign of Michael, which explained the look of worry on Nikita’s face. But even something involving the loss of a level five operative wouldn’t lead to a meeting like this.

Operations entered alone and the nervous murmurs of the operatives ceased. Charlotte had expected to see Madeline walk into the room behind him, but ultimately didn’t think anything of her absence. Whatever Operations was about to announce, she surely already knew—and probably was already working to resolve. Her attendance would be superfluous, so Charlotte dismissed her absence.

“As you must know by now we suffered a strike this evening,” Operations began once he was in the center of the room. “Michael survived. He was tracked several hundred meters out of the incineration zone before he shed his transmitters and communication devices. He’s now in Mandatory Refusal. He’ll assume the Section has been breached and will sever all communications until his Mission is complete. The next time he contacts us it will be tell us that the Mission has been completed.”

Charlotte caught Nikita’s eye and they shared a look of relief. Completing the mission without support from Comm. would be difficult, but Michael was more than capable of pulling it off. But even with this, Charlotte still felt a sense of dread based on Operations’ demeanor.

“However, there’s a further complication,” Operations continued as he turned on a monitor that showed Dorian Enquist. “We downloaded an MPEG fifteen minutes ago.”

_\---We had a beautiful relationship. I’m sorry it has to end on such a downer. I’m a businessman.---_

The fact that Enquist message was on film was telling—he wouldn’t be communicating this way if he didn’t have something to show them.

_\---Don’t blame me for misrepresenting myself. I was just trying to make the best deal I could. Now it’s time for me to disappear. ---_

Or someone. Madeline’s absence began to feel like a glaring alarm bell.

_\---It’s going to take a few days and I can’t be distracted by further attempts on my life. So, call off your assassins, let me go about my business, and ah, when I’m done, I’ll return my hostage.---_

Charlotte didn’t need to look at the video for confirmation—the look on Operations’ face was all she needed. Madeline was the only person who would evoke this reaction.

“From now on our Mission profile has changed,” he announced. “I want all resources deployed toward one end. We much stop Michael. Preliminary assignments will be on your panels.”

Operations strode from the room, leaving a stunned silence that gave way to collective beeping of various panels followed by conversation as people examined their panels. Glancing down at hers, Charlotte saw something about data and profile analysis but the words didn’t register. Instead, her mind ran through the statistics she knew about hostage situations and the likelihood of live retrievals.

She slipped out of the room and into the hallway, where she leaned against the wall and attempted to regain her focus.

“Charlotte.”

Nikita’s voice interrupted her thoughts and she mustered a greeting, “Hey.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” she said distractedly as she started to think about what she knew of instances of mandatory refusal and whether the Section had ever been successful in overriding an operative once they entered the status.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t look it.” Nikita’s hand on her arm prompted her to look up. “What’s wrong?”

Seeing the concern on the blonde’s face, Charlotte took a breath and tried push back her thoughts and to give off an appearance of calm. “Nothing.”

“Charlotte.” She led them into an alcove. “Are you worried about Michael?”

“Just because he’s the center of your world, it doesn’t make him the center of mine,” Charlotte snapped and immediately regretted it. 

Nikita, however, didn’t look bothered by the statement. She only looked more concerned. And, in the face of that concern, Charlotte found it harder to maintain the distance she needed between herself and her emotions.

“Talk to me—I can help.”

At the genuine offer, Charlotte felt something inside her start to crumble. She wanted to latch onto Nikita and let the older woman take care of it, so she wouldn’t have to. Her words spilled out of her in a rush, “I just always thought that she’d have to deal with it—not me—this isn’t the way I thought it would happen.”

“Hey,” Nikita said gently. “Is this about Madeline?”

“Yes—No. It’s just… I don’t know.”

“I get it.” 

She didn’t though. No matter how compassionate Nikita was, she didn’t understand this. As she started to think of how to explain it, Charlotte remembered that explaining was the last thing she needed to do. She needed to reign in her scattered thoughts and regain control of the conversation. It was Madeline’s voice, cemented into her mind through years of training, that told her how to do it. 

_The easiest way to persuade someone is to start with the truth. It doesn’t matter what truth it is—just that it be enough of a truth to convince them of your sincerity. Then go to the undisputed facts. The rest will follow naturally._

“It’s a lot to process,” Charlotte began with that simple truth. “Michael in mandatory refusal. Madeline a hostage. Operations deploying resources to stop Michael.” With each fact, she felt her thoughts fall back into line—all she needed to do was get Nikita to shift her thinking from what was wrong to how she could fix it. “If you would have told me that when I left for Athens, I would come back to these three things, I never would have believed you,” she continued smoothly. “It all just kind of hit me all at once.”

“It’s a lot,” Nikita agreed. “But it’s not something you need to process on your own. You can just tell me when you’re freaking out.” 

Charlotte feigned a look of skepticism to hide how pleased she was that Nikita dropped her earlier line of questioning. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Nikita’s voice shifted to something a little more teasing as she continued, “I won’t tell anyone and ruin your perfect reputation.”

“Thanks,” she said and surprised when she realized that she meant it—somehow she actually felt a bit better. “Really.”

“You’re welcome.” Nikita paused and gestured at her panel. “Where you supposed to be?”

She glanced down at her panel and gestured at the room they had just left. “Systems.”

“Same here. Let’s get work.”

* * *

Nearly twenty hours later, Charlotte found herself with nothing to do. Well, nothing related to the search for Madeline anyway. Birkoff had identified Tomas Bocci as the buyer based on an anonymous login by Michael, which rendered Charlotte’s analysis of potential buyer profiles superfluous. So instead, she found herself running sims of potential outcomes until the numbers started to blur.

She left Systems for Comm., but Birkoff was busily talking with one of his team members—no doubt searching for Bocci or his associates—so Charlotte kept walking until she arrived at Munitions. She lingered in the doorway and waited for Walter to notice her.

After a couple minutes, Walter looked up from his work and jumped slightly when he saw her watching him. “Jesus, Princess, you scared me.”

“Sorry.” She gave him a half-shrug. “You looked busy—I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“I’m never too busy for you.” He smiled and set down his work. “What are you supposed to be doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Really?” 

“I finished.”

He looked at her in concern. “Are you okay?”

She nodded but he looked unconvinced. Charlotte knew she should try harder, even though this was just Walter, but she couldn’t get the numbers from the sims out of her head.

“Have you slept since Athens?” She shook her head and he frowned. “You should sleep.

“Not tired—I’m fine.”

“What can I do?”

“Can you tell me that this is all going to end okay?” Charlotte paused before continuing softly, “There isn’t a single profile where they both end up alive.”

“There’s always off-profile.”

“Maybe,” she said without believing it. She picked up a comm. unit. “Will you keep me updated?”

“Of course, Princess.”

* * *

Charlotte sat behind Madeline’s desk in her office with her knees drawn to her chest. She should have gone to her quarters and tried to sleep, but she couldn’t bring herself to go there. Instead, she went to the one other place in Section where she would be undisturbed. Only one person would know to look for her there, and he was probably the one person she could talk to. 

Sure enough, after she had been there about an hour, Operations entered the office—silently walking over to Madeline’s Bonsai trees. After a few minutes of silence, Charlotte lowered her knees and sat up properly. “Do you remember the last time?” she asked.

“Six years ago.”

“It was easier then—at least for me.” He turned away from the plants to look at her as she continued, “I didn’t know as much.”

Operations took off his glasses. “I didn’t want you to know anything.”

At ten, she had understood the gravity of the situation and the possibility of death, but she was much more removed. Operations had made sure of that. “You tried to distract me with chess.”

“You beat me.”

“Twice.” Charlotte smiled slightly at the memory. “But I figured it out.”

“You always were too smart for your own good.”

“I know.”

He sat down across from her. “You were in her office then too.”

“I always liked that office—I felt safe there.”

“And this one?”

She glanced around the space and shrugged. “It’s different—colder.”

“But you’re still here.”

“True.” She paused and looked down at the pattern on the glass of Madeline’s desk. She started tracing the edge of it. “We shouldn’t be doing this. She wouldn’t approve.”

“I know.”

“If she gets back…”

He cut her off. “When.”

Charlotte nodded in acceptance of his correction even though the numbers said otherwise. “She’s going to be mad as hell.”

“We’ll deal with that then.”

“Of course.” She gave him a forced smile as he stood up. “Is there anything that I should be doing?”

“Not at the moment.”

“If anything comes up…”

“I know where to find you.” He headed for the door, but paused to look back at her. “Have you eaten?”

She shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“I’ll have Christopher send something over,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

“Okay,” turned away from him and looked across the room. Operations left her there, silently staring at the walls of the office.

* * *

The next twenty-four hours passed in a blur. Charlotte managed a few hours of sleep and even a couple hours of work, but she spent most of the time obsessively listening to the reports from Comm. and reviewing the latest data. It wasn’t healthy or productive, but she couldn’t help herself. 

There were no guarantees to life in Section—Charlotte knew that, but she still had certain expectations. She had spent years preparing to be an active operative—years during which Madeline had been one of the few constants. It always had seemed like a foregone conclusion that this training would be followed by years of working under Madeline. 

But instead, she found herself sitting in Comm. providing tactical support for the C Teams on a mission that would likely end with both Madeline and Michael dead. These teams served as secondary back-up, so there was not much for Charlotte to do beyond ensuring that they stayed in their rotating holding pattern without external interference, but it was a relief to be able to focus on the repetitious task.

Things were relatively quiet and then suddenly they weren’t. First Bocci’s vehicle arrived, then Michael, and—abruptly—the power was cut. This brought Operations to Comm., where he hovered over Birkoff’s shoulder as he tried to pinpoint the source. Then a voice crackled over the radio. 

“Comm., can you hear me? Comm.?”

“Who is that?” Birkoff said.

“Birkoff, it’s me, Nikita.”

“Nikita, what are you doing? Get off that channel!”

“I’m on site. Madeline’s safe. Call off the hit on Michael. Now!”

For a moment, nobody said or did anything, but then Operations gave a small nod and Birkoff said into his microphone, “Rescind orders on Michael—hostiles only.”

Charlotte instructed her teams to hold position and then looked over at Operations. He locked eyes with her briefly and she gave him the briefest of smiles. He nodded in response and she looked back down at her monitor. Now all they had to do was wait for Michael to report in.

“Target terminated, material secured.”

Charlotte didn't think she had ever felt more grateful to hear Michael's voice.

* * *

Thirty-six hours later, Charlotte was summoned to Madeline’s office. The door slid open and she waited at the threshold. “You wanted to see me?”

“Come in.”

Charlotte walked down the steps and over to the chair opposite the desk. She sat down, smoothed her skirt, folded her hands, and waited for Madeline to speak. 

“I was reviewing the report from my absence,” Madeline said after a full minute of silence. “I noticed that you were not working in Systems or any other area of the Section for much of the time. Why is that?”

“I felt unwell,” she lied smoothly. If Madeline could brush off the hostage situation as a simple absence, then she could keep a similar calm. “Operations suggested that I rest.”

“Lying to me would be ineffective.” 

Under Madeline’s scrutiny, Charlotte felt her heart rate increase, but otherwise didn’t outwardly react or respond. It felt like she was being tested, so she did her best to maintain the calm. After a moment, Madeline blinked and tilted her head slightly. Whatever the test had been, it was over and Charlotte had no idea if she passed.

“I could sift through surveillance records until I uncover your true whereabouts, but I have a lot of work that needs my attention,” Madeline said, her tone becoming slightly more firm. “I would be easier all around if you told me yourself.”

The shift in tone told Charlotte that the time for half-truths had passed. “I was here.”

“Here?”

“Yes, here—in your office.” She paused a beat. “After Bocci was identified, there was no pressing work for me in Systems. I came here until it was time for the deal with Bocci and I was needed to provide tactical support.”

“Did you bother to tell anyone of your decision?”

“Walter, so he could keep me informed of any developments, and Operations found me rather quickly.”

“What did he say?”

“That I should eat something.”

“So he agreed with you?”

“He raised no objections.” The more Charlotte thought back to how she felt at the time and the harder it was to maintain her calm façade in the face of Madeline’s clear judgment. “Would you have rather he ordered me back to work as if nothing was happening? Or would you have preferred that I advise him to call off the hit on Michael and let you die?”

“I deal in facts, Charlotte, not speculation.”

“Of course.” She forced a smile. “Will that be all?”

“Yes.” Madeline nodded as Charlotte rose from her seat. “Go back to work.”

Charlotte headed for the door but stopped and turned back around. “Just so you know, Madeline. I did what you would have wanted.”

“And what was that?”

“I told him you wouldn’t want us interfering with Michael,” she said with a stony expression. “He didn’t listen, but I said it.”

With that, Charlotte again turned around to leave the office. She was on the first step when Madeline spoke. 

“That was why you said it, wasn’t it?” Charlotte froze where she stood but did not turn around. “Because you knew Operations would not act on your suggestion.”

Charlotte closed her eyes against the tears that threatened, hating how well Madeline could always read her. “And if that was the reason, does that mean I failed?”

“It simply means you need more practice.”

“Practice.” She scoffed while biting her lip and shaking her head. “Until what?” she asked, not caring about the bitterness that was seeping into her voice. Focusing on the bitterness helped her tears to receded. “I’m able to be as detached as you?”

“Until you can control your emotions so that they do not interfere with your work.”

“And how much control will that be?” She looked over her shoulder and met Madeline’s steady gaze. “Until I can watch you die without caring, or until I’m capable of pulling the trigger myself?”

“Good back to work, Charlotte,” she ordered, as if the words had no effect on her. 

“Of course.” She nodded curtly before exiting the office.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been a while. Mostly because I have mixed feelings about this chapter. It just feels of 'a type' in that it's very much feels like something I wrote when I was nineteen. But I like some parts of it and a later conversation it prompts, so I'm biting the bullet and throwing it out there. (Thanks in part to the recent guest kudos who reminded me that there are people reading in this decades old fandom.) So anyway....enjoy?

Nikita arrived at Madeline’s office a couple minutes early and was only mildly surprised to find Charlotte inside discussing something about Saudi Arabia and Yemen. The teen was well-versed in an almost frighteningly diverse array of topics, but she rarely delved into them when alone with Nikita, always opting for something lighter. The only window into this side of Charlotte came from moments like this, where she caught snippets of conversation between Charlotte and Madeline. 

“Nikita,” Madeline greeted. “Please come in. I asked Charlotte to join us.” Nikita nodded and smiled at Charlotte, who responded with a tight professional smile. Once Nikita was seated, Madeline continued, “Your relationship with Emily Sandi is not progressing as rapidly as we need it to.”

This didn’t surprise Nikita. Emily Sandi was the wife of an arms dealer that she had been targeting while posing as a married couple with Michael. The hope was that her friendship with his young wife would give them access to Sandi’s compound, which had a complex security system that could only be studied from the inside. 

“I see Emily almost every day and she clearly trusts me, but our friendship is not enough for her to go around her husband to invite me into her home,” Nikita said. “She and Luis have a rapport with Michael and myself, but given his paranoia it will be months before any of our dinners transition from restaurants to their compound.”

“I agree,” Madeline said, giving Nikita a look that suggested she was pleased with her assessment. Nikita ignored the small feeling of pride that brought. “So we’ve adjusted the profile. Charlotte will be joining you on the mission.”

“How will that work?”

After a nod from Madeline, Charlotte spoke, “I will be posing as Michael’s niece, who will be staying with the two of you while my mother seeks treatment for addiction. I’ll be enrolled in the same prep school as Lorenzo Sandi. Given his age and clear resentment towards his father for divorcing his mother in favor of the much younger Emily, he is more likely to rebel and invite me into their home.” 

“Makes sense,” Nikita agreed. “When will you arrive?”

“Tonight.”

“The details will be on your panel,” Madeline added. “I suggest you mention it to Emily when you see her this afternoon.”

“I will. Is that all?”

“Yes.”

Nikita stood up and looked at Charlotte, who hesitated. “And me?” Charlotte asked.

“I would like to continue our discussion.”

“Of course,” Charlotte agreed with the nod. Despite the way Charlotte always shrugged off her interactions with Madeline as just part of the job, she seemed genuine pleased at the prospect of continuing the discussion. “I’ll see you later, Nikita.”

“Later.”

* * *

Later turned out to be Munitions after about thirty minutes. Nikita had reviewed the updates to the profile and still had twenty minutes until her transport, so she was chatting with Walter as he worked when Charlotte approached.

“Hey people.”

“Hey, Princess,” Walter greeted and Nikita gave her a smile.

“Do you have my cell phone?” she asked him sweetly.

He nodded. “Just give me a couple minutes—excuse me ladies.”

With Walter busy in the back, Charlotte turned to Nikita. “So, did you read the profile?”

“Yes.”

“What did you think?”

Nikita wasn’t quite sure what she was asking. “Of the profile?”

“Yes.”

“Um, it’s fine.”

Charlotte looked disappointed. “Just fine?”

“Well, yeah. It’s a profile.” she said with a shrug. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because _I_ created it.”

“Oh.” Nikita nodded, finally understanding. “What I meant was: it’s the greatest profile I’ve ever read.”

“Now you’re just patronizing me,” she said. Charlotte was feigning annoyance, but Nikita could tell the girl was pleased. “Although, I suppose that I should be happy that you couldn’t tell it was my first one.”

“It’s your first?”

“Well, I’ve done dozens in sims and trainings, but this is the first one that’s been applied to a mission without any substantive modifications,” she explained. “I was studying the surveillance on the Sandi’s and the debriefs, when I realized that Lorenzo’s psych profile made him a good target. So, I made a report and submitted it to Madeline—and et voila!”

“Congratulations,” Nikita said with a smirk at Charlotte’s excitement.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she tried to play it off, but Charlotte stared her down. “You’re just funny.”

“Funny how?”

“You just created a profile to take down an international arms dealer and you’re acting like you just got an A+ on a spelling test.”

“Well, I did ace my research essay on the long reaching impacts of Yemen’s civil war in the 1960s, so I guess I can be happy on all fronts.”

That explained the conversation she overheard earlier in Madeline’s office. “You’re a little crazy, you know that.”

Charlotte stuck out her tongue in response. “And now I’m your problem: Auntie Nikita.”

It was moments like these that reminded Nikita of Charlotte’s true age. “Is that what you plan on calling me?”

“I’m just testing it out.” She grinned. “How do you think Michael will feel about being ‘Uncle Mikey’?”

Nikita smiled back. “You’ll have to ask him.”

“Oh, I will.” Charlotte’s eyes sparkled as she spoke. When she saw Walter returning her demeanor became all business—it was as if her entire personality changed. “Is that it?”

“Yes.” He held out what looked to be a normal cell phone. “It works just like a real phone, except when you press this button on the side here it will start recording every detail of the security system and building schematics.”

“And how to do I send them to Section?”

“Birkoff can show you.”

“Cool.” She picked up the phone and waved over her shoulder. “See you later.”

“Bye, Princess,” Walter called after her.

Nikita watched Charlotte walk away. “Walter, can I ask you something?”

“Sure thing, Sugar.”

“Why do you call her Princess?”

“Why you do I call you Sugar?” he responded with a shrug. “Some people warrant nicknames.”

“She just doesn’t seem like the princess type.”

“There aren’t any other kids in here, so I used to tease her that she was the Princess of Section,” he said with a shrug. “It just kind of stuck.” 

“So you knew her when she was a child?”

“I taught her how to shoot.” There was a hint of pride in his voice as Walter spoke. “You should have seen her. She could shoot better than most operatives before she hit her tenth birthday.”

“What was she like?”

“A lot like she is now—serious, but charming and sweet too.” He smiled at the memory as he continued, “One time, when she about eight, I told her I liked baklava and she somehow figured out my birthday and brought me a whole tray of it.” 

Nikita smiled at the image of a young Charlotte delivering treats through the Section. “So she was a happy kid?”

“Given the circumstances, yeah.”

“Did you know her parents?”

Walter nodded, but his eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking all this?” 

“No reason—I’m just curious.” She was surprised by the sudden change in Walter’s tone. A second ago he was sharing stories and now he was serious. “Charlotte doesn’t talk about her past much.”

“None of us do, and you should stay out of hers.”

“Why?”

“Because the history there is more dangerous than you think—just let it go, Sugar.”

* * *

“Thank you again for everything, Emily.” Nikita reached across the table to touch the hand of the petite brunette who was eating at a café with her. “You’ve been so helpful in getting everything prepared for Charlotte.”

“What are friends for?”

“You’ve gone above and beyond. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I was panicking about suddenly having this teenage girl that I barely know moving into my house, and now—thanks to you—I’ve bought everything she could need and she’s enrolled at San Sebastian’s even though there’s only a few weeks left in the term.”

“I didn’t secure her enrollment, your donation to the school did.”

Nikita chuckled. “You got me on the phone with the headmaster, so thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Emily smiled. “Four months ago, I was in your exact same position. Lorenzo was ‘asked not to return’ to his boarding school, and suddenly I had this seventeen-year-old stepson in my house who is resentful of my entire existence.”

“You endure so much with him. At least Charlotte shouldn’t resent Michael and me—we’re just giving her a place to stay until her mother is up to providing a home for her.”

“Yes, and it should only be for a couple months. Surtax’s is known for their success rates in these situations,” Emily said, referring to the rehab center where Nikita told her Charlotte’s mother was staying.

“That’s the hope.” Nikita glanced down at her watch. “Oh, wow, it’s later than I expected. I really should be getting home so I can finish setting up her room. I’m so sorry to cut this short.”

“No problem. You’ll call me tomorrow? Let me know how it goes.”

“Of course.” Nikita leaned over to kiss the woman’s cheek. “Bye.”

* * *

Later that night, Michael drove along the quite roads that had become familiar in the recent weeks in comfortable silence with Charlotte. When she was first assigned to his team, he had been mildly skeptical—not that she lacked the baseline skills, but that she would live up to the numbers in her profile outside of a simulated environment. Yet, she managed to meet, and in some cases exceed, those numbers.

“How far are we from the house?” Charlotte asked.

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Good.”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Are you ready for this?”

“When am I not ready?”

“I recall another mission four-and-a-half years ago.”

She gave him a look of surprise—clearly she hadn’t expected him to remember. The surprise gave way to a smirk. “That was not my fault. The security system failed to fully disengage.”

The mission he referenced was fairly straightforward. Infiltrate the compound of a Serbian terrorist using intel obtained from the operative inside, and then extract the terrorist and the operative. Instead of being directly involved with the extraction of the target, Michael had been charged with the extraction of the operative—the twelve-year-old who was posing as the “daughter” that a high school girlfriend had given up for adoption.

While Charlotte’s current age was an anomaly in the field, it was not unheard of for a recruit to be brought into Section as a teenager to begin their training. A true child was different. Charlotte seemed to be the only exception to that rule. But even at twelve, she had shown abilities well above average.

_< ><><>_

_Michael had been waiting at the egress point, monitoring his team’s actions when a high-pitched voice came over his comm. unit. “Why is the door locked?”_

_There was a pause before the operative in mobile comm. said, “The security system failed to disengage completely. We’re working on it.”_

_Knowing the window was limited, Michael broke in. “Find an alternate egress.”_

_“Okay,” she said with a hint of annoyance in her voice before the line went quiet._

_Michael waited, scanning the side of the building where she would be coming from. Suddenly he heard movement in a nearby tree and saw a small figure make her way to the ground._

_“Sorry, I’m late,” she said in a rush as she ran up to him. “You must be Michael.”_

_“Yes.” He wasn’t sure what to make of the girl in front of him with a serious expression on her face while dressed in lavender pajamas and pink sneakers. “Charlotte?” he asked and she nodded in confirmation. “I have your weapon.”_

_“Thanks.”_

_There were times when Charlotte returning fire at hostiles and he would forget that she wasn’t even a teenager yet. When they got inside the van, it started moving immediately. The girl next him was clearly the reason. Glancing at her, he noticed she had her arms crossed and was shivering. “Are you cold?”_

_She dropped her arms and stilled. “I’m fine,” she told him, even though he could still see the goosebumps on her arms._

_“Here.” He took off his jacket and slipped it over her shoulders._

_“Thanks.”_

_He noticed a particularly nasty set of scratches on her arms and hands. “Are you all right?”_

_“Yeah.” She glanced down at her arms. “I just got scraped up from the tree—it’s nothing.”_

_“You should be checked by Medical.”_

_She nodded and gave him a small smile. “I will.”_

_The ride back to Section took nearly three hours. At some point, Charlotte began to nod off and fell asleep against Michael’s shoulder. Michael was surprised how he did not mind her presence next to him. It reminded him of his younger sister. When they arrived at Section, he woke her gently and made sure she went straight to Medical. After his debrief, he went to check on her but she was gone. He wouldn’t see her again for years._

_< ><><>_

He cast a sidelong glance in her direction. “Excuses.”

She stifled a laugh in response to his teasing. “Well, there won’t be any this time. We have fourteen days to get into the Sandi estate, and I bet you I’ll be inside in ten.” Michael said nothing, so Charlotte continued. “What? You’re not going to take my bet?”

“I don’t bet on missions.”

“Nikita will—just wait and see.”

“I’m sure she will.” 

Michael returning his focus to his driving and Charlotte went back to gazing out the window. He noticed her yawn and lean her head against the glass. Seeing this, Michael couldn’t help but think that even though she was older, a Charlotte was still the little girl who fell asleep next to him in the mission van.

* * *

Charlotte knew there was no surveillance in her assigned bedroom, so during the morning period during which she was supposed to be sullenly refusing to wake up, Charlotte instead spent the time casually flipping through the magazines Nikita had gotten ‘her niece.’ It was probably one of the most relaxing mornings she’d had in months. 

Eventually a sharp knock on the door interrupted her quiet. “Charlotte,” Michael’s voice filtered through. 

Waiting a second and infusing the appropriate level of annoyance into the voice she responded, “What?”

“Breakfast is ready,” he told her. “You need to leave for school in thirty minutes.”

“Fine.”

She proceeded to finish reading an article on expected summer fashion trends, before tossing the magazine aside and slipping on the blazer that went with her school uniform. With a final check of her make-up, she headed downstairs to the kitchen where Nikita and Michael were already reading.

“Good morning, Charlotte,” Nikita said brightly.

“Morning,” she mumbled, taking the empty seat at the table.

“How did you sleep?” Michael asked.

“Fine.”

The remainder of the breakfast passed in the same fashion with Nikita and Michael talking and Charlotte responding with nods and monosyllabic sentences. After the meal, Michael kissed Nikita goodbye and left to work, while Nikita and Charlotte headed to the garage. Once they were inside the surveillance free car, Charlotte was the first to speak.

“You call those scrambled eggs?”

“That’s what you want to talk about? Eggs. You don’t want to go over the profile?”

“I wrote the profile, remember?” she said dismissively. “I’d much rather debrief on the the state of those eggs. Those were some of the worst eggs that I have ever eaten.”

“You barely touched them.”

Charlotte folded her arms and leaned back in her seat. “I rest my case.”

“Michael ate his.”

“He had to.”

“Why? Because of the profile?”

“No.” Charlotte shook her head. “I’m sure he could have come up with a reason to eat something else that still fit the profile.”

“Then why?”

“You.”

“Huh?”

“You’re more important to him than your weirdly runny yet dry scrambled eggs,” Charlotte teased. “Do you really not see that?”

“It’s just the profile. We’re supposed to appear to be in love.”

“It’s more than just appearances.”

“Your reading too much into this.” Nikita shook her head. “We’re just doing our jobs. Michael is good.”

“Look,” Charlotte said seriously, the teasing gone. “Before I was on active mission status I did a lot of surveillance review, so I know just how _good_ Michael is when he’s pretending, but this is different—he’s different with you.”

Nikita didn’t say anything, but Charlotte could tell that the woman was pleased as they pulled up to the school.

“Well, I’d love to stay and chat about Michael’s feelings, but I need to become a sullen, yet intriguing high school student.”

“I’m sure you’ll have no problem being difficult.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes in response. “I hate you.”

“Great start.”

* * *

Charlotte sat on a railing at the edge of the parking lot casually smoking a cigarette. She appeared to be oblivious to her new classmates who were talking and laughing as they headed to their cars and bikes after a long day of classes. Behind their bored look, her eyes scanned the crowd for Lorenzo. Everything about her was calculated from her position two cars past his to the angle of her crossed legs under the plaid skirt of her uniform.

After a few minutes the parking lot cleared out and Charlotte noticed Lorenzo sauntering towards her. She pretended not to see him until he spoke, “You know those things will kill you.”

“Really?” she took a long drag. “I though carcinogens were a girl’s best friends.”

He smiled and pulled a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. “Got a light?”

“Sure.” She passed him her lighter with an amused smirk. “So you got a name?”

“I’m whoever you want me to be.”

She took the lighter back from him and rolled her eyes slightly. “Of course you are.”

“And you’re Charlotte Reese, the new girl who’s staying with her uncle and his wife while her mother is at a ‘spa.’”

“Do girls usually find that charming or creepy?”

He ignored her question and offered his hand. “Lorenzo Sandi.”

She shook his hand and gave him a skeptical look. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

“My step-mother is ‘best friends’ with your aunt. She rambled on about you last night.”

“So you came over here out of an obligation to talk to me?”

“No—I wanted a light.”

“Really?”

“I don’t listen to my stepmother.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “So you’re a rebel?”

“Without a cause, according to her.”

“Well, then let’s go find one.” 

With that, Charlotte hopped off the railing and started to walk away—silently challenging him to follow. It didn’t take long for him to follow.

* * *

Things between Charlotte and Lorenzo progressed quickly from there. Lorenzo was involved with a fast crowd and by the end of the week Charlotte fell into it as well. Judging only by the parties they attended and the behavior in the school, their relationship appeared superficial, but Charlotte ensured that it went beyond the physical, confiding in him about her mother’s drug problems and getting him to talk about his mother’s nervous breakdown and hospitalization.

Everything in their interactions was scripted, but there were times when it began to feel natural. Charlotte found herself genuinely enjoying spending time with Lorenzo and getting to to behave like a carefree teenager, whose biggest concern was finding a private space to make out with her boyfriend. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Are you sure?” she asked, as she continued unbuttoning her shirt. “Because I’m sure.”

He smiled as she slipped her shirt from her shoulders, before reaching to remove his. Tossing his shirt aside, she ran her hands down his chest before lay back as he climbed over her. 

“I said door open…” Nikita trailed off. “What the hell is going on here?”

Right on schedule, Charlotte thought as Lorenzo rolled off of her. She still had her bra and skirt on, so she gave Nikita a brazen look without bothering to reach for her shirt. “What do you think?”

Nikita glared at her in response and then walked over to pick up Lorenzo’s shirt. She tossed it at him angrily and ordered, “Get dressed and get out.” When he hesitated, she added, “Now!”

“Lorenzo, wait,” Charlotte said, pushing past Nikita to give him a kiss before he left. “I’ll call you.”

“No—you won’t,” Nikita said, glaring at the young couple until Charlotte stepped away from Lorenzo and he left. She shoved Charlotte’s discarded shirt into her hands. “I want to make this very clear, Charlotte, so listen carefully. While you are staying in my house, you will not have any boys—Lorenzo or otherwise—in your room unsupervised. Understood?”

“Whatever.”

“No—not whatever—you are a guest and I can kick you out whenever I want. So put your shirt on and start behaving or I’ll have you in foster care before you know what hit you.”

* * *

“I hate you!” Charlotte shouted at Nikita two days later as she stormed upstairs to her room. She locked the door behind her and turned on her stereo loud enough to drown out the noise of the call she was about to make.

“Hey Babe.” Lorenzo’s voice came over the line. “What’s up?”

“Change of plans—my aunt’s being a bitch and not letting me out.”

“You canceling?”

“Hell no. I can’t spend another minute it this house with them. Just pick me up at the end of my street.”

“Sure thing.”

“See you soon.”

Snapping her phone closed, Charlotte slipped it in her purse and headed for the window. She pushed it open and climbed out, using a nearby tree to make it down to the ground. Ducking past the windows on the first floor, she made her way to the corner where Lorenzo was waiting.

“How much for the hour?” he asked as she got into the passenger’s side.

She leaned over to kiss him and whispered in his ear, “More than you can afford.”

“Then you must be the best.”

“You have no idea,” she said with a grin. “But maybe if you’re good, you’ll find out.

* * *

A couple hours later, Charlotte and Lorenzo were making out in the bedroom of the house party—a room that just happened to give the the perfect view of the driveway as Lorenzo left a trail of kisses down her neck.

“Shit,” Charlotte swore as she pushed him away.

“What?”

She cast her eyes around the room for her shirt. “My uncle is here.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” She picked up his shirt and tossed it to him. She grabbed her own and pulled it over her head, opting to shove her bra in her purse. “We need to get out of here.”

Lorenzo pulled his shirt over his head and took her hand. “I know a way.”

Within minutes, Charlotte was climbing down her second tree of the evening, only this time with Lorenzo’s help. They made their way to Lorenzo’s car only to find it blocked in. Charlotte was about to complain, when Lorenzo pulled out his cell phone and, with a cocky grin, told her, “Always have a back-up plan.”

“So?” Charlotte prompted once he finished the call.

“My driver will meet us outside the café down the street in five minutes.”

“Well, let’s go—I don’t want to be here when Michael realizes we’ve already left.”

During their car ride away from the party, it had been fairly easy to convince Lorenzo that going to his house was the only way they could have the privacy they wanted. With his parents out of town and his hormones driving his actions, Lorenzo quickly agreed. When they arrived, Charlotte feigned delight at the extravagance of his home before excusing herself to the bathroom, where she flipped open the phone.

She turned on the bathroom tap and dialed the number. “You’re transmitting,” Birkoff’s voice crackled out of the phone. “Program’s predicting completion in 74 minutes. We’ll maintain the planned egress of 85 minutes from now.”

“I’ll keep Lorenzo busy ‘til then.”

“I’m sure you will.”

The line went silent and she slipped the phone back into her purse. Turning off the faucet, she left the bathroom and found Lorenzo in the kitchen opening wine. Leaving her purse on the counter, she sidled up to Lorenzo. 

“Is that for me?” she asked and he responded by handing her the glass. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

“So,” she said after taking a sip. “Are you going to give me a tour?”

“A tour?”

“It’s a gorgeous night and I would love to see the grounds… the pool…” she trialed off with a smile. “Kiss you under the stars…”

“Who am I to deny you your wish?” He picked up the bottle and took held out his hand. “Come on.”

* * *

Eighty minutes later, a flustered guard interrupted to say that an irate man was at the gates demanding he be let inside to find his niece and threatening to call the police. Charlotte rolled her eyes and complained as she gathered her things, before kissing Lorenzo goodbye and allowing the guard to escort her to the gates. 

When she reached the car, she made a show of arguing with Michael before reluctantly getting getting into the car. She waited until they were back on the main road before she spoke.

“Birkoff got everything?”

“Full access. We’ll maintain our cover for the next 36 hours, and the team will extract Sandi when he returns.”

She smiled at him. “Told you I’d get it ten days.”

“It’s after midnight. This is day eleven.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took forever. And I'm still not really pleased with the last bit with Nikita and Charlotte plays out, but if I haven't been able to come up with something I like more after all this time, then I doubt I ever will. But I like parts of this, so here we are.

Charlotte walked out of her debrief with a sense of calm that came from a completed mission. Everything had gone according to profile, which had made the debrief simple and straightforward, albeit long.

“You look happy.”

Charlotte spotted Nikita walking down the corridor towards her. “Really?”

“Yes,” she confirmed and Charlotte shrugged. “Debrief go well?”

“Yes, yours?”

“Same old, same old. You want to come over to my place and have a late dinner?”

“Don’t want to be alone tonight? Miss our little family?” A slow smile spread across Charlotte’s face as she continued, “Or do you just miss Michael?”

“No.”

“Sure.”

Nikita shook her head at Charlotte’s skeptical look. “Hey, if you don’t want to come over, just say so.”

“Well, I’d love to but I already have plans.”

“Birkoff?”

“No.”

“Then who?”

“Whom,” Charlotte corrected.

Nikita rolled her eyes. “Then whom?”

“Madeline.”

“Madeline?”

“Yes, Madeline. We’re going to bake cookies and braid each other’s hair.”

Nikita smirked at her. “Just another Section slumber party, right?”

“Precisely,” Charlotte said with a grin.

“So what are you really doing?”

“Psych debrief.”

“Why?”

“Have to make sure my ‘relationship’ with Lorenzo won’t have any lasting effect on my performance,” she said, pausing to do the actual air quotes as he spoke.

“Fun.”

“Oh, yeah. Maybe if I score well enough they’ll make me a Valentine Op.”

“Charlotte!”

She blinked at Nikita in surprise. She had not expected to see the appalled look on her friend’s face. “What?”

“You didn’t—did you?”

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“I’m not talking about kissing. I know who you’ve been kissing. I want to know if you slept with him.”

Charlotte studied Nikita, trying to figure out what had made her so upset. The idea of sex with Lorenzo hadn’t been distasteful. Quite the opposite, Lorenzo’s appeal was her reason for doing it. Yet Nikita was acting as if it was some great tragedy for her to have had sex without being ‘in love’ with him.

“I didn’t sleep with him,” Charlotte said and Nikita seemed to let out a sigh of relief, which told her that the other woman actually seemed to believe the fairytale nonsense. “I had sex with him,” she finished, bracing herself for Nikita’s response.

“You what?”

“You heard me,” she said with an unblinking gaze. 

“It’s the same thing.”

Charlotte knew the look in Nikita’s eyes—it was the look she always got when she thought Section had robbed her of something. There were times when she acknowledged Nikita’s point and others when she just let the comment drop, but this was different. It was one thing for Nikita to criticize something about Section generally, but this time it was a critique of something Charlotte had chosen to do—something she had enjoyed. 

“No,” Charlotte countered firmly, not bothering to hide her annoyance. “Big difference.”

“How do you know?”

“I know.”

“You’re sixteen.”

“Seventeen.”

“What?”

“I’m seventeen,” Charlotte repeated, taking small satisfaction in the look of surprise on Nikita’s face.

“Since when?”

“Last week. Thursday.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“We were in the middle of a mission.”

“Still, we could have worked it in.”

“How? You would have baked me a cake?” Charlotte asked with a scoff. Nikita was being ridiculous. “Because that would fit with the profile.”

“You should have said something.”

“Well, now you know. Put it on your calendar. If neither of us is cancelled, we’ll celebrate next year,” she finished brusquely. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“Never mind—I’m leaving.

Charlotte watched Nikita walk away and frowned. Sometimes she wondered why she even enjoyed spending time with the other woman. She was startled out of her thoughts at the sound of her name.

“Charlotte.” Following the direction of the voice, she looked up to see Madeline watching her from the floor above. “Are you ready?” Madeline asked.

“Yes—I’ll be right up.”

“Good.”

“Okay.”

She watched Madeline leave before she headed to the stairwell. As she walked, Charlotte wondered how much of her conversation with Nikita that Madeline had overheard. She wasn’t really concerned about Madeline overhearing their argument or even the jokes about a slumber party, but Charlotte worried that she heard her comments about Michael. Because unless she could convince Madeline they were all in jest, there could be major consequences for Nikita.

* * *

When Charlotte walked into Madeline’s office she was mildly amused by the set-up. Instead of her usual position by her computer, Madeline had arranged the chairs around the silver tea set on the desk’s otherwise empty surface. It was meant to put Charlotte at ease so she would open up. Two years ago, it would have worked, but today she was able to see right through it.

“Good evening, Charlotte.”

“Good evening, Madeline,” she said, taking her seat. “How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you. And you?”

“Pretty well.” Charlotte reached for the cup of tea that was already poured for her. She took a sip and then looked at Madeline levelly. There was no point in skirting the discussion of the mission, so she got straight to the point. “It’s been a long twelve days.”

“Would you say it was difficult?”

“Yes and no.”

“What wasn’t difficult?”

“The schoolwork,” she joked, getting Madeline to smile. “And the acting—playing a teenager—was relatively easy. At times it even was fun.”

“Fun?”

“I had a lot of freedom. Yes, I had to follow the profile, but a good portion of the profile required that I was a ‘normal’ teen with no apparent responsibilities.”

“And you enjoyed that?”

Charlotte debated lying, but knew Madeline would see straight through it. “Yes.”

“Would you have wanted the mission to last longer?”

“No,” she said confidently. “While I enjoyed parts of the experience, it was still an act. And the lives of those teens were so self-indulgent and empty. I don’t think I could lead a life that lacking in purpose.”

Madeline nodded, seeming to accept the answer. “What was difficult?”

“The moments I enjoyed.”

“Why?”

“Because they were genuine, and when they ended, they made the reality more jarring.”

“These moments,” Madeline said, pausing to take a sip of her tea. “Were they when you living with Nikita and Michael?”

“No.”

“Lorenzo?”

“We had fun together.”

“Did you develop feelings for him?”

“Not in the sense the profile suggested.”

“In what sense?”

“I enjoyed spending time with him.”

Madeline merely nodded in response but otherwise said nothing. Charlotte reached for her tea and took a drink. She could feel Madeline watching her, but tried not to react. When she returned her cup to the saucer, Madeline spoke. “The profile did not require you to be intimate with him.”

“No, but it wasn’t outside the parameters of the mission.”

“Is that why you did it—simply because you could?”

“If it was off profile and put the mission at risk, I wouldn’t have done it,” she responded, knowing full well it was a non-answer, but she couldn’t help herself. She had expected the debrief to focus on whether her involvement with Lorenzo would impact her going forward. Not that it would be a critique of her decision to have sex with him in the first instance. 

“Your femininity and your sexuality can be powerful tools in your arsenal, but if you cannot articulate your reasons for using them, then perhaps you are not ready.”

Charlotte fought the urge to roll her eyes at the veiled, but clear criticism. “I had sex with Lorenzo because I knew it would be the easiest and most enjoyable way to keep him distracted until it was time for the egress. I could have spent 90 minutes flirting and distracting, but I wanted to have sex with him more.”

“Because it was Lorenzo or because he was a teenaged boy who was available?”

“It was both, but the physical part of the relationship—the sex—was just sex.” Madeline just looked at her without saying anything. In the face of the silence, Charlotte tried to guess what she wanted her to say. “If you’re worried about me having some kind of lingering attachment to him, I don’t.” This was met with more silence. “You don’t believe me?”

“Is there any reason I shouldn’t?”

“No,” she answered quickly. Too quickly based on Madeline’s blink in response.

“Nikita seems to disagree with you.”

“Nikita doesn’t understand.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s Nikita.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“You know what I mean.” This time Charlotte didn’t bother to hide the eye roll. She knew she had that she had already lost any chance of maintaining an equilibrium during this debrief, so there was no point in pretending. “She’s acting like it’s some great tragedy that I had sex during a mission.”

“Would you have preferred it not to have happened during a mission?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have met Lorenzo but for the mission, so there’s no point to that question.”

“I’m not asking about the logic of the question, I’m asking for your preference.”

“My preference is for everyone to stop judging me for having sex.”

“This is a psych debrief, Charlotte. No one is passing judgment on you.”

“Just my motivations.”

“And that bothers you?”

“Yes!” she snapped and Madeline raised an eyebrow in response. Charlotte took a breath to collect herself. “Not entirely,” she continued more calmly. “I understand the purpose of a debrief. I may not enjoy dissecting my decisions, but I can see why Section requires it. And if anyone had a right to inquire about my sex life, I supposed it would be you.”

The last part was intended to be a challenge, but not surprisingly, Madeline did not comment on it and merely posed a new question. “But from Nikita, it does?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s treating me like a child.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.” Madeline quirked an eyebrow but otherwise said nothing, so Charlotte continued, “What else do you want me to say?”

“I think this goes deeper. I want to understand why you are upset with Nikita.”

“Because you care about our friendship?”

“Because you are not one for outward displays of emotion in public settings,” Madeline explained, “And yet, I came across you and Nikita arguing. It’s out of character, and it is my job to understand why.”

“Of course you wouldn’t care,” she muttered under her breath, knowing full well it would be heard by Madeline. And, sure enough, it earned her a disapproving look. Sighing, Charlotte straightened her posture and folded her hands, before speaking. “What upset me was that Nikita’s criticism carried an implication that, due my upbringing, I lacked the free will to choose to have sex and, having done so, that I was incapable of understanding the significance.” Charlotte paused, before asking, “Is that deep enough?”

Madeline didn’t quite smile in response, but the look she gave with the small nod told Charlotte that she was satisfied—maybe even pleased—with the self-assessment. “How do you plan to address this?” she asked. The shift in question type was also a good sign.

“I wasn’t. She’ll have to get over it.”

“That’s one approach.”

“You would advise another?”

“I would consider the risks of letting something, even small, fester without being addressed.”

“I’m not sure what I can say to make her understand.”

“Perhaps it’s not what, but who?”

“Who?” Charlotte frowned before she realized what Madeline meant. “You mean Peter?”

“Yes.”

“Are you encouraging me to share something personal?” she asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “That’s quite out of character for you, Madeline.”

“In this case, it’s appropriate.”

“Should I tell her everything?”

“You should tell Nikita whatever you deem to be necessary.”

The non-answer wasn’t surprising. “And what would you deem necessary?”

“We’re not talking about me, Charlotte.”

“You must have an opinion. You have opinions on everything that pertains to the Section and to me.”

This earned her a mild look of amusement from Madeline. “Yes, but you are not always entitled to them.” Madeline paused. “You should go tonight. Now even.”

“We’re finished?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Charlotte said with surprise. She had expected the psych evaluation to last longer, but apparently Madeline had observed all she needed—whether that was good or bad, she didn’t know. She stood up and said, “Goodnight then.”

“One more thing.” Madeline rose from her seat and walked behind her desk, where she picked up a small package wrapped in brown paper.

She took the package. “What is this?”

“For your birthday.”

Charlotte smiled as she tore through the paper to find a book with writing in what appeared to be Thai. She looked at Madeline in confusion. “A translation assignment?”

“A book of traditional Thai recipes.”

“Which require translation,” she countered with a smirk.

“Which is more authentic for someone truly interested in mastering Thai cuisine.”

“So the translation work is just a bonus?” she asked and Madeline just raised an eyebrow. Charlotte rolled her eyes and shook her head before breaking into a genuine smile of appreciation. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Madeline smiled back. “Now you should be going.”

“Of course. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Charlotte.”

* * *

Charlotte slowly made her way down the hallway towards Nikita’s apartment. She was not looking forward to going another round with Nikita. She didn’t expect that they would end up truly fighting but she would much rather be back in her quarters reading or cooking. Yet, Madeline had all but ordered her here, so she raised her hand and knocked on the door.

The door opened and Nikita leaned casually against the frame. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Charlotte echoed. “May I come in?”

“Sure.”

She stepped aside, allowing Charlotte to walk in. “Look, I wanted to apologize about before.”

“I’m sorry too.”

Charlotte walked over to her favorite chair and sat down. She waited for Nikita to do the same before speaking, “It’s just that I’m not used to having someone question things.”

“Some things need questions.”

“And you need answers?” Charlotte challenged.

“It’s not about me. It’s about you.”

“It’s about you not being okay with something that I did.”

“That Section made you do,” Nikita countered. “They had no right to put you in that position.”

“They didn’t put me in it, Nikita, I did. I designed the profile, remember?”

“It’s not about who made the profile or even if it actually required you to sleep with him. It’s about the fact that they’ve made you believe this is okay—that it’s normal.”

“It is normal! Those kids at that party hook up all the time. What Lorenzo and I did was par for the course.”

“Those kids hook up because they want to. You did it for the mission.”

“The sex wasn’t part of the mission,” Charlotte argued with an exasperated shake of her head. “I didn’t have to ‘go all the way’ to get into his house or to stall him. I could have distracted him with something other than sex, but Lorenzo was hot and I wanted him.”

“How can you be so cavalier about sex? You’re still a child.”

“Fifty percent of American women lose their virginity by the time they’re seventeen.”

“Quoting a statistic doesn’t make you ready.”

“How old were you?”

“What?’

“You heard me,” Charlotte said with an unblinking gaze. Nikita’s reaction told her she was right with her guess. “You don’t have to answer, but I’m going to assume you were close to my age.”

“It was different. I had a boyfriend and we were in love—or at least thought we were.”

“So was I.”

Nikita stared at her in surprise. “With Lorenzo?”

Charlotte shook her head. “But I was with Peter.”

“Who’s Peter?”

“An incidental on one of my missions.”

“When?”

“A few months after I turned fifteen, I was sent to boarding school,” she explained. “Four of my classmates were children of suspected terrorists of varying degrees of importance, so it was primarily an undercover reconnaissance mission, but it also served as a practical way for me to experience _normal_ interaction with people my age.”

“Section’s version of a summer camp?” Nikita questioned with a smirk.

“They actually did send me to summer camp when I was younger.”

“Seriously?”

“Mmhmm.” Charlotte nodded. “Dance and equestrian—just to make sure I didn’t turn into a Sectionized freak.”

“The jury’s still out on that one.”

“Thanks.” She rolled her eyes and went back to her story. “My roommate, Agnes, was my primary target—source, really. I wasn’t supposed to do anything more than become friends and gain access to her family home. She had a brother, Peter, who was in the grade ahead of us. My directive didn’t encourage a relationship with him, but nothing in it prevented one. We started dating and a little before my sixteenth birthday, we started sleeping together.”

“Did you love him?”

“Maybe—I don’t know,” she said with a small smile. “I mean, I knew from the start it couldn’t be anything permanent but it was more than just lust.”

“How did it end?”

“Do you remember when Red Cell got their hands on the directory?”

“Yeah,” Nikita answered quickly, with a look flashing through her eyes that made Charlotte curious.

“I used to sneak over to his dorm at night and slip back into mine in the early morning—with Section training, it was easy. That morning, I got back to find Agnes dead in our room. Her hair color was the same as mine with a similar cut. Red Cell didn’t bother to confirm the details.” 

“Oh God.”

“I was recalled and joined what was left of a team that was in Zurich.”

“Did you see Peter again?”

“I ‘transferred schools’, but there were a few occasions.”

Charlotte hadn’t wanted to see him again. With her cover compromised, it wasn’t safe to return to the school but it didn’t prevent her from continuing the relationship with Peter. Peter had loved his sister deeply and Charlotte did not want to face his grief on top of the guilt she felt, but Section insisted. She could still hear Madeline’s voice: _Your relationship with Section comes before all others—your personal feelings for Peter cannot interfere with the mission._

Or what followed when Charlotte had protested that her personal feelings for Peter was the only reason Red Cell hadn’t killed her: _Your personal feelings are the reason Agnes is dead. Our actions and choices have consequences. You cannot shy away from them because you are uncomfortable._

In the end, Charlotte gained access to files belonging their father when she was invited to their home during the summer holidays. After that, she never saw Peter again. She knew, however, that those details would likely lead to more questions or outrage from Nikita, so there was no need to elaborate.

“It wasn’t the same though,” she said simply.

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” Charlotte gave a curt nod before continuing, “Look, Nikita, I know that Section treats sex as a weapon and tool, but because of Peter, I know that it can be something more. Because of that, I can draw the line between what I did with Lorenzo and when I was with Peter.”

“So being with Lorenzo had nothing to do with the mission?”

“No,” she said and the other woman looked surprised by the admission. “It crossed my mind that sex would be the easiest way to distract him, but that wasn’t my motivation. I didn’t even really plan for it, but we in the pool and I decided why not?”

“Why not?”

“He’s hot. I mean, too young for you, but you can’t deny that,” Charlotte said getting Nikita to nod in agreement, but she could tell it was somewhat reluctant. “You still don’t approve?”

“You don’t need my approval and I’m not going to shame you for having sex.”

“But…?”

“I still think you’re too young, and I don’t think Section should have put you in that position.”

“I think Madeline agrees with you.”

“Really?”

“Well, at least about the first part. Maybe.” Charlotte paused and frowned as she thought back to the conversation with Madeline. “She might have just been critiquing my decision from a tactical perspective. I can never tell with her.”

“No one can.”

“No, I think that was it. I think she was disappointed with me for taking the easy way out.”

“Easy?”

Charlotte laughed. “Seriously?”

“You said it,” Nikita grinned and stood up. “Come on, I invited you for dinner.”

“And you want me to help you cook it?”

“If I had any food here I would, but since I haven’t been to the shop since this mission started, I think we should go out.”

“Out?”

“Yes.” Nikita held out her hands and Charlotte took them, allowing herself to be pulled up. “We have something to celebrate, don’t we?”


End file.
